


Flash Klance Fic!

by WhatTheBodyGraspsNot



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Please check the notes of each chapter for specific tags!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23396242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot/pseuds/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot
Summary: I will use a random number generator to pick from a dialogue prompt list, and then write 1,000-1,500 words centered around that dialogue.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 336
Kudos: 874





	1. "How Long Have You Been Standing There?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"How Long Have You Been Standing There?"**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** general audiences  
>  **Word-count:** 1,043 words  
>  **Summary:** When Lance comes home from class early, he's greeted with three things: dinner on the stove, his "Get Some Serotonin, Brother!" playlist on the TV, and his normally grumpy boyfriend dancing in the kitchen, blissfully unaware of he's being watched. Until he is.  
>  **Additional Tags:** it's fluff lads, keith is stubborn and grumpy but cute as hell and lance is in love with that shit 
> 
> [more info on what these fics are for :)](https://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/post/613848736745078784/flash-klance-fic-sale-do-you-feel-like-you)

* * *

The first thing Lance is greeted with when he opens their front door is the familiar beat of Normani. 

Then the tantalizing smell of onions caramelizing.

And then his boyfriend, his back turned to him in the kitchen as he tends to the pan sizzling over the stove. 

It’s a whole big mixture of Things that Lance is quite familiar with himself - but that’s just it. Himself. It’s _his_ “Get Some Serotonin, Brother!” playlist jamming on the TV. The one Keith’s gloomy ass has never really expressed much of an opinion on. And yet here he is - blasting it through the apartment himself - obviously under the impression he’s alone when in _faaaact…_

Lance can’t help the smile that dances across his face as he shrugs off his backpack - oh so quietly - so as not to interrupt this secret vibe he’s never seen his boyfriend achieve without a little help from some pot.

Because there’s definitely no telltale stink of weed in the air. No “maybe just a hit or two - Lance is in class anyway” situation. Nah, Keith’s boppin’ around the kitchen on his own free will, Normani teasing his steps into something with just a scootch more bounce - just a bit more life - just a liiiiittle more and he’d be full on dancing-

_Ima break you off - let me be your motivation_

_To stay and give it tonight_

Lance’s heart flips lovingly in his chest as his dear sweet boyfriend’s head starts to bop to the beat, arms occupied with a quick flip of the caramelizing onions in the pan but head definitely bopping.

And oh… _Ohhhhh_ Keith would kill him if he took a video for his own personal serotonin archives wouldn’t he - but _god,_ this is groundbreaking? 

His very own moon and stars? Dancing to Motivation in the kitchen as he makes them dinner?

Legendary.

Lance fights down the incredible urge to reach into his pocket and pull his phone out, instead opting to quietly slump a shoulder against the wall, the smile on his face almost as endearing as the show happening a room away.

_Think about it_

_Oooo, I think about it_

A well-timed, drawn out swirl of the pan.

_Think about it_

_Oooh take a look at me now_

_A little motivation_

Lance watches the little twist of Keith’s hips like he’s witnessing the eighth wonder of the world unfold before his very eyes. Because he is. And it’s gonna kill him probably. But what better way to go than this?

In the kitchen, Keith turns the heat down on the stove, letting the pan sit as he messes with something else on the counter. To say Lance is mesmerized by the cute little sway of his head as he focuses is an understatement, but he should still see it coming before it happens - before the familiar clatter of Keith’s phone on the counter - before the very obvious outcome that he misses his opportunity to silence before it-

_ding ding!_

Shit.

All of Keith’s movements freeze on a dime. Everything he had built up. All the Bounce™. It freezes up at the sound of Lance’s phone alerting him to the message. _Keith’s_ message. The one he just sent and-

Keith turns crisply on his heels, eyes wide and cute and looking like the goddamn textbook definition of Getting Caught With Your Hand In The Cookie Jar as Normani blasts away in the background and-

Lance’s smile should be sheepish but it’s not. “Hey babe- wh-”

Because Keith’s disappearing - is dipping further into the kitchen and out of sight and oh no (!) he’s been spooked!

The chuckle that falls from Lance’s mouth is one of endearment as he moves, padding into the kitchen after him because he has to fix this and _yep,_ there Keith is, shoulders hunched as he slices through something on the cutting board with just a _bit_ too much enthusiasm.

“Baby-”

“Mm.” A grumble. He gets a grumble and that’s it. 

But Lance can smooth this out. 

Wrapping his arms around his beloved when he’s wielding a well-sharpened kitchen knife is maybe not the most stellar idea, but Lance is on a mission, pulling himself in close from behind to nuzzle at where Keith’s ears are reddening as he grumbles again.

“How long have you been standing there...”

Long. “Not too long.” He nuzzles closer, all the endearment that just built up inside of him finally finding a way to escape. “Long enough to know I love the fuck outta your cute lil’ ass.”

From the living room, Motivation leads into Stupid Love. 

A coincidence? Lance thinks not.

And how can he _not_ plant a bunch of sloppy kisses on Keith’s cheek from behind?

 _“Ugh,”_ he’s grumbling again - is leaning away from the attention - but Lance can feel the smile fighting to break across his face, “Fuck off…” Because the bell pepper is chopped to perfection on the cutting board and therefore freeing up the knife for: “Lance.” Keith’s tone is just as sharp as he holds it up in warning. “Fuck off.”

It has Lance huffing a laugh through his nose, sneaking in one more obnoxiously wet kiss to his cheek before heeding said warning and backing off.

For now.

“Still love you, though.”

“Mm.”

“And your cute lil’ dance moves-”

“Shut _up-”_

“‘Specially that lil’ hip bop-” ope- yeah Keith’s definitely coming after him. “What!” Lance laughs, hands out to defend himself as his boyfriend advances on him with the determination of a lion going in for his kill. “You’re cute, baby! What the hell do you want from me!”

But it’s too late. Keith has pounced, arms reigning in Lance’s flailing ones to keep him still and shut him up, but…

They both know that’s not really a state Lance ever operates at.

A room away, his “Get Some Serotonin, Brother!” playlist keeps rolling - the perfect backdrop for the rush of just that as the two of them fall into something more comfortable, Keith’s stubborn blush finally starting to even out as he allows himself a kiss.

A normal one.

No slobber included.

“Fucking text me the next time you’re outta class early.”

Lance smiles, “And miss pure gold like this?” voice lowered but unable to shake the playfulness. “Absolutely not.”

* * *


	2. "Why Do You Only Kiss Me When I'm Sleeping?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **"Why Do You Only Kiss Me When I'm Sleeping?"**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** general audiences  
>  **Word-count:** 1,354 words  
>  **Summary:** At first Keith thinks it's a dream.  
>  **Additional Tags:** lance sneaks kisses when he thinks keith is asleep, so i guess some dubious consent for that?, but yeah, this one's a little angsty lads, pre-relationship klance, canon compliant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [more info on what these fics are for :)](https://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/post/613848736745078784/flash-klance-fic-sale-do-you-feel-like-you)

* * *

At first Keith thinks it’s a dream.

A vision.

A spirit passing over him in the darkness, leaving warmth in its wake before disappearing back into the night.

More than a couple times this dream happens. Quick but recurring. 

And then the spirit slips up. 

The spirit is too rough. Lingers too long.

Has the familiar, heady pleasantness of Lance’s cologne.

But Keith keeps his eyes closed. Keeps his breath even as the warmth lingers against his cheek. 

Because…

If he just…

…

A week later. Passed out on the common-room couch but not really. Head tipped over the back of it because the mission has been long and they’ve finally got a second to just exist and he’s  _ passed out but not really. _

Not really.

Not really - aware on some plane of existence of the movement behind him. The presence. The filling of space - warm - notes of driftwood from soothing cologne. 

He couldn’t move if he wanted to, the couch too welcoming to his tired body. But he doesn’t want to anyway. He wants to lie. Wants to wait. Is aware, on some plane of existence of the careful brush of fingers over his forehead - sweeping his bangs back - oddly confident but only because he’s passed out but not really and-...

Keith’s body warms over…

Chest warms over…

Soul warms over from the lips pressed against his forehead…

Passed out but not really.

Aware but not really.

Wrapped up and content with the feeling but…

…

Lance looks at him the same as he always does. Is consistent in their waking hours but turns spectral and secretive when Keith closes his eyes. 

He should say something.

He should call him on it.

He should admit that he’s fighting off sleep every night on the off-chance that Lance will float in and out of his orbit. 

But telling him runs the risk of it disappearing for good. Telling him means lassoing it from that hazy plane of existence and making it real and raw and right in their faces and…

He should say something.

He should call him on it.

He should admit that he’s been dreaming about those lips on his skin far before they ever actually brushed against him.

But he doesn’t.

He can’t.

He just…

…

The air is thick and still and Keith didn’t even drink tonight.

Everyone else did though. Everyone had a goal in mind and it definitely wasn’t being able to stay awake to feel what Keith can only assume is coming. 

Because when Lance looked at him across the table tonight it was there. The inconsistency. Eyes swimming. The lingering glimpse that was undoubtedly heavy and unmistakably sad.

Keith doesn’t like it.

Keith doesn’t like that he knows the feeling maybe even worse than him.

Keith doesn’t drink, hanging onto the hope that the liquor will pull Lance out of his good sense and back into Keith’s orbit. 

He doesn’t have to wait long. 

His head barely touches the pillow to drift into pretend sleep before he feels the atmosphere shift around him… The fingers that aren’t careful enough… The touch that he almost leans into but reels himself back from at the last moment… The lips that press to the corner of his mouth, too heavy and too warm and too yearning, no longer just a fleeting thought against his forehead or his cheek.

Keith’s chest is too full.

Too much air in his lungs.

Every nerve in his body begging him to  _ move...move...tilt just a little so it’s a full kiss, but… _

But…

The mattress groans as the extra weight vanishes.

The spirit evaporates into the night once again.

And Keith wants to scream until his throat is raw.

…

Lance looks at him the same in the morning.

Like the universe didn’t shift the night before.

Like he doesn’t remember holding the reigns.

Keith remembers.

…

Keith remembers.

…

Keith remembers.

…

Keith is awake.

Keith is aware.

Keith is steadying his breathing, universe shifting-shifting-shifting around him because Lance is back. Lance is here. Lance doesn’t get the privilege of being able to pretend it isn’t happening anymore, the space between them so close that Keith almost falls back into the safety of lying just to feel it one more time but-...

But.

Keith opens his eyes.

Lets it sweep over him.

Feels like he’s drowning in the fucking intensity of finally seeing Lance’s face so close. His smooth skin. His parted lips. His eyes locking on - deer in the metaphorical headlights as the gravity of the situation kicks in and he moves away but-

“Don’t.” Keith’s not angry. Not aggressive. Can’t even get himself to move but doesn’t have to because Lance is listening to him, his make to pull away stopping on a dime.

But it’s not steady. He’s not steady.

Nothing about this is steady like it was when Keith pretended he was asleep and Lance pretended it wasn’t happening. 

But Keith can’t do it anymore. He can’t have the universe shifting around him while he stays completely still. He has to move. Has to answer it. Has to just fucking-

“Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping...” 

His voice is too quiet and too unsure and Lance looks like he’s seen a ghost. Like Keith’s been the spirit haunting his bedside this entire time, and not the other way around.

And…

“Lance…”

Keith moves.

Sits up, pulse hammering so hard in his chest that it’s painful. 

Has no option but to watch as Lance’s eyes flutter down to his lips… Contemplative… Longing…?

And…

“I don’t-...” His voice does nothing but set Keith’s pulse thicker in his eardrums. “We’re not always gonna come back…” Big Picture. Bigger than Them. “And if we didn’t… And I didn’t get the chance to before that…”

A kiss to his cheek.

Comforting against his forehead.

Heavy at the corner of his mouth.

If Lance hadn’t snuck them in before going off on their missions with the very real possibility of not returning...

Keith swallows the lump in his throat, just enough confidence to move forward and close the space but-

But Lance leans back. 

Keeps the distance. 

Is visibly tense, brow furrowing and gaze breaking off. 

It’s another overwhelming sweep of something over Keith’s entire body but this time it’s not overwhelming in a good way. This time...

“It’s just-...” Lance is speaking, though. Is piecing it together as he goes and is  _ so fucking real right now  _ that Keith’s struggling just as hard because: “It’s just... _ way more  _ like this…”

Like this.

_ Like this. _

When neither of them are pretending.

Keith’s nod is short but honest. Because he’s right, after all. Actually being face to face with these eyes and that carry and those lips, the ones quirking into a familiar but nervous half-grin now… It’s both way too much and not even close to being enough.

Because Keith’s heart is pounding.

Chest is yearning.

Fingers are itching to reach out and touch.

And maybe if he just…

Lance’s swallow is so thick as Keith lists forward again that he can hear it - right up in his space - close enough now to touch and be deliberate and never pretend again because…

Because Lance’s lips are warm…

And soft…

And incomparable to how he’s been imagining…

Keith’s heart is gonna leap out of his fucking chest but-

But Lance is kissing him back, his hesitation still painfully present but ebbing away with every second that passes - every breath they share. 

And maybe…

Maybe Keith  _ is _ actually dreaming. Maybe this  _ has  _ just been a figment of his imagination this whole time. Because Lance’s hands have no earthly right to feel so comforting where they rest against the sides of his neck, coaxing them into something more steady - more like what he must’ve been chasing after but couldn’t reach without waking Keith up. 

But Keith is wide awake now.

Keith is living.

Keith is falling into the universe as it shifts on and on around them, his lifeline softly grinning against him as they plunge together.

* * *


	3. "We're Playing Checkers. If You Don't Like It, Leave."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **"We're Playing Checkers. If You Don't Like It, Leave."**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 1,663 words  
>  **Summary:** Lance knows he and his roommate Keith are gonna hook up, they're both just too stubborn to be the one to make the first move. Enter: his friend Nyma's master plan. 1) Lance and her play strip-checkers. 2) Keith sees Lance's hot bod and gets horny and territorial. 3) Roommate hookup. It's foolproof!  
>  **Additional Tags:** oh my god they were roommates, alcohol, sexual tension, this is the buildup because im long-winded, a part two is coming soon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [more info on what these fics are for :)](https://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/post/613848736745078784/flash-klance-fic-sale-do-you-feel-like-you)

* * *

If there’s one thing that Lance has learned sharing an apartment with Keith, it’s that Keith is just as good at a lot of the same shit.

Forgetting to do laundry? Just as good.

Fortnite? Just as good, if not a little better (but don’t tell him Lance said that).

Dancing around the idea of getting together but never actually hooking up? Ugh. They’re both masters at that shit. 

But it’s only a matter of time. It’s been cookin’ between them for months now and one of them’s gonna break soon - Lance can feel it in his fucking bones. Keith just needs a little... _kicker,_ if you will. A little push. Something to decide for him, if you catch his drift.

And that’s what brings them here, in the living room, Keith on the couch with the most incredible Bitch Face in the world as Lance plays a perfectly normal game of checkers with Nyma on the floor.

_click!_

“Alright - shirt off.”

...okay, maybe not a _totally_ normal game of checkers…

The Fortnite stream flashes on the TV behind them as Lance pulls his tank top over his head. 

The clatter of his captured checker joining the stack next to Nyma is loud, but not loud enough to hide the huff that floats down from Keith.

Lance knows it’s coming because he can set his fucking watch to it: he or Nyma jumps each other’s piece, the loser takes an article of clothing off, and then Keith does a really shitty job at hiding how big of a stick he has up his ass.

They’ve gone through all three steps, which means now it’s time for:

“Somethin’ to say up there, chief?” 

Keith’s response is his eyes rolling and a looong long drink from his beer. But Lance can definitely feel that gaze begrudgingly drop to slip over his now bare shoulders when he turns his attention back to the board.

They’re getting somewhere. 

Nyma sits back, perfectly comfortable in her sweatpants and bra when this whole Strip Checkers Situation was her idea in the first place. (Because she’s a good friend like that.) (Is it also a direct result of Lance not being able to stop whining about how long it’s taking him and Keith to hook up? The jury’s still out on that.)

Keith’s beer bottle rings against the side table as he sets it down but says nothing else. 

It’s typical for him - expressing his bitchiness in as little words as possible. He probably thinks he’s doing a good job at controlling his face up there too.

But holy shit is he not.

Nyma’s plan is working just like she said it would - the absolute legend.

_clack - clack_

“That’s two, hot stuff.”

A little spike of excitement surges through Lance’s chest as his pieces get hopped over and swept away. Because yeah, what she just did isn’t even a legal move. She definitely just cheated to get him out of more clothes and to get Keith more out of his mind.

Like Lance said - absolute legend.

“We countin’ socks?” He joins right in with her playful tone, wiggling his toes to draw out a very real scoff.

“Yeah, as _one.”_

_One?_

Oh dear! Oh me oh my! Whatever shall Lance do? 

He’s gonna take his fucking pants off - that’s what he’s gonna do.

“Jesus Christ…” Ahh _there’s_ Keith finally chiming in. Little late, but it’s the thought that counts.

Lance turns to him again, delighted in the frown he sees. “It’s okay to have fun, Keith. You should try it some time.”

“Yeah, ‘cause this looks _so_ fucking fun.” Sarcastic. Defensive. 

Lance can even it out with a little humility. “We’re playing checkers, man. If you don’t like it - leave.”

Because that’s what Keith expects him to say. He expects him to fight back, if Lance has learned even a little bit of their conversational habits in these past months. 

But there needs to be a little something extra, _so:_

“Or come play,” Nyma tacks on, smooth as hell. “You can play winner.”

Keith doesn’t like that. He’s without a doubt a huge competitive asshole, but his jealousy must be getting in the way of his constant need to win right now.

Fine. That’s fine! Lance knows what he has to do.

“Anywaaaay…” The wiggle of his hips as he leans back to start pulling the waistband of his joggers down is slow and playful and 100% right in Keith’s view. As intended. 

Across the board, Nyma rests back on one hand, the other bringing her beer to her lips in an easy sip as she watches her plan play out like clockwork - Lance’s joggers sliding down off his thighs - Keith’s stubborn glare no doubt struggling to stay on the TV. It’s all pretty obvious and extra, honestly. But that’s what makes it so genius.

“Boxer briefs,” she murmurs with a small smile. “Cute.”

She’s setting the trap. 

Lance preens, because he can already feel Keith stumble right into it and get instantly tangled, the way his curious gaze lingers on Lance’s black boxer briefs enough to stoke the fire already settled in his gut.

He tosses his pants off to the side - proud - already committing to taking it a step further if he needs to, but he doesn’t think that’s gonna be the case. Not with the way Keith downs the rest of his beer. Not with how he can hear him shifting around on the couch up there - too much excess energy - too much alcohol making his attention slip from the TV _again._

Lance holds back his smirk, instead opting to make sure he’s presenting the goods in the best position possible - bare chest squared but relaxed as he rests back on his hands, everything leading Keith’s eyes to the package in question.

It sends more and more heat up Lance’s body but it’s a tasty heat. Enticing. He likes being checked out, but he fucking _loves_ when it’s Keith who’s doing it.

And maybe if he just...really smoothly answers that eye-contact-

Barely even a split-second and Keith’s already abandoning ship, his gaze breaking off and returning to the Fortnite stream. But he’s not watching. He’s not invested. He’s worrying at his bottom lip without realizing it and-

The momentum builds and instantly shifts - another rush of energy surging through Lance’s body as Keith pushes off the couch and toward the kitchen and _Jesus,_ he’s gonna shatter that bottle if he keeps gripping it like a lunatic which means he’s-

Woo man, he’s close to breaking.

They’re finally gonna hook up tonight, aren’t they.

Lance lets his attention fall from where Keith disappears into the kitchen to where Nyma is fixing him with a look from the other side of the checkerboard. 

A very specific look. 

A _‘yes - go close the fucking deal’_ look.

And Lance doesn’t need the affirmation, but he without a doubt needs the focus, because he definitely just spiraled off into a super sexy daydream in his brain. (Not the first one he’s ever had, but that’s besides the point.)

Alright then. Time to go make that daydream into a reality, baby!

The rush builds with every step, every inch closer to what he wants, the sound of the stream on TV muffling as he finally steps into the kitchen to see Keith at the counter island, waiting for the thud of the empty beer bottle in the recycle bin before saying it.

“You want me to ask her to leave?”

Keith looks up, brow etched in irritation but gaze still sticking as it lingers over Lance’s bare chest...his abs...down over his lap...and then- 

He breaks off. “Do whatever the fuck you want.” Turns his back to him. 

But Lance isn’t done yet. Not by a long shot.

The kitchen tile is cool on his bare feet as he slowly moves forward, making himself comfortable in the thin space between the island counter and where Keith is reaching into the refrigerator.

Time to lay it on thick.

Close the deal.

“You _know_ what I want…” Lance murmurs. He’s confident about that. Even more confident it’s mutual. “And I know what _you_ want…”

Keith pauses, clearly steadying himself even with his shoulders as fucking tense as they are. 

When the bottles clank against each other, Lance expects it to be loud - he expects the slam of the refrigerator door to be sharp - but what he doesn’t expect is for Keith to pull a 180, his beer set on the counter behind Lance so he can use both hands to pin him to it without touching.

It’s a fucking crazy rush. Has Lance’s pulse doubling. Stokes the incredible urge to list forward and press his practically naked body against Keith’s fully clothed one but this is a stare-down, Keith’s eyes narrowed and daring and so close. So so close.

And...

The grin that slowly creeps its way across Lance’s face should be wicked, but he can’t help the honesty that slips - the obvious absurdity that comes with both of them realizing how stubborn they have to be for _this_ to be what breaks them. A game of fucking Strip Checkers.

“You sure you don’t wanna play…?” He can still be smooth though... Can dare to trace his fingers over the waistband of Keith’s gym shorts and delight in the way it has those pretty eyes heating over… “We can play just you and me…”

Because Keith’s not glaring anymore. 

On the contrary, Lance’s playfulness has grown just the slightest bit contagious, the corner of Keith’s mouth quirking as he says it. “M’not very good at checkers…”

It has Lance humming a laugh, gaze still met but his head listing to the side for just a moment so he can call into the living room, “Nyma - I forfeit,” before turning back to Keith, that wickedness finally taking root as he slides his fingers under the waistband clinging to his hips. “Lemme show you a few moves.”

\- To Be Continued... -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a part two is coming soon, so stay tuned :3


	4. "I'll Give You A Massage."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **"I'll Give You A Massage."**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** general audiences  
>  **Word-count:** 1,765 words  
>  **Summary:** Out of all of Lance's friends, Keith is definitely the most tense - hands down. But there's nothing a little massage can't fix! And Lance has got magic fingers.  
>  **Additional Tags:** fluff, they're friends that give each other shit but absolutely have hidden feelings for each other, keith is a little stubborn but melts from a lil TLC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [more info on what these fics are for :)](https://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/post/613848736745078784/flash-klance-fic-sale-do-you-feel-like-you)
> 
> also, just gonna keep the edge going on that strip-checkers au because this is the one my brain wanted to write first lol

* * *

“Keith dude, I love ya ‘n all but you  _ really  _ gotta unclench...like...your  _ entire body.” _

In retrospect, maybe it’s not the best opener. But Lance is nothing if not committed to all his friends’ well-being. And he’s never known someone wound as super fucking tightly as Keith Kogane.

Even here, existing in Lance’s apartment like he always does when they hang out. Everything is chill - there’s exactly zero things to be stressed about in this moment in time - and yet Lance can  _ see  _ the tension in Keith's shoulders as he moves from the window to address that no-so-stellar opener.

“What’re you saying…” 

Man, you’d think someone constantly deadpanning like that would be a little more-...well… “M’sayin’ you need to chill.”

“I’m chill.”

“You’re definitely not chill, dude.” Lance has to laugh through it. Because there’s no way Keith can actually be that delusional, right? “All this  _ can’t  _ be good for your energies.”

The look he receives is extremely doubtful and extremely Keith, no words needed anymore to show just how little he believes in Lance’s 'energies' even though they’re real! They’re a real thing, okay!

Alright, decision made.

“C’mere.” Aaand he’s still not convinced, so:  _ “C’mere,”  _ \- a little pat to the edge of the couch between Lance’s legs - “M’gonna fix you - free of charge.”

Caution. Doubt. “Fix me how…” Still  _ soooo so monotonous. _

But Lance can fix that too, spreading his legs wider to make more room even though Keith hasn’t moved a single inch. Because: “I’ll give you a massage. They’re guaranteed!”

“Yeahhh - that’s okay-”

“Keith, be reasonable. Think of your poor muscles.” There’s no way they aren’t all knotted up in those shoulders from all his angsting. “And besides, I’m kinda legendary at giving massages.”

He can predict the sarcasm dripping from Keith’s words before he even says it, phone slid out of his pocket as he tends to a notification without looking up. “Legendary, huh…”

It’s clear now that there’s no getting through to him with words alone. This is a Prove Instead Of Convince situation if Lance has ever seen one. 

Alright, time to pull out the Big Guns (puppy-dog eyes). “Keith… If you won’t do it for you, will you do it for  _ me? _ For  _ my  _ energies?” Just gonna throw in a little lower lip quiver for good measure aaaand-

“Ugh.” 

_ Yes! _

Lance does his very best to hide his victory grin as Keith drags himself over to the edge of the couch and then drops to the floor between his open legs, back slumped and head tilted to continue his text which is a  _ nope! _

Lance reaches over his shoulder and slips the phone out of his hand in one fluid motion, unable to see the irritation on his friend’s face but already feeling the protest in the air. 

“Seriously?”

“Step One is disconnecting,” he explains, tone gone easy as he tosses the phone on the other end of the couch and then quietly readies himself with a few good cracks of his knuckles. “Step Two is letting yourself feel good.”

He gets a grumble down there. It’s unclear if it’s residual grumpiness from getting his phone taken away or fresh grumpiness from hearing Step Two, but…

“Keith...do you consent to me making you feel good?”

Perhaps not the best way to ask, because it’s got Keith tilting and turning his head, eyes narrowed as he makes direct contact. “Is this gonna turn into some kinda weird sexual shit?”

Cute!

Definitely cute, but: “No no no,” Lance has to chuckle. “Sexy massages are somethin’ way different - trust me.”

_ Trust him. _

That must ease a good amount of Keith’s overall worries, because he lets his head drop forward with no more than a little murmur of recognition, attention to the nature documentary playing on the TV instead.

And…

Lance would be remiss to skip this very critical step…

“Good with me touchin’ on ya, though?”

“Yeah, fine.” He sounds bored already. Actually no, that’s just his voice.  _ “Dick around with my energies _ or whatever.”

That’s-...absolutely not what it’s called but Lance will let it slide! For the sake of progress. And so he can give his fingers one more warm-up wiggle and then finally let them smooth over Keith’s shoulders.

They’re tight. Just like Lance expects. But he’s gonna take it nice and easy at first - use his thumbs to start up some calming circles of light pressure over the tense muscles. No need to blow Keith’s mind right out of the gates.

“If you start snoring,” he assures, “I promise I won’t Snap it.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep, Lance.” It comes with a short huff of a laugh.

And oh-ho… Sweet summer child... “Mmkay...”

His confidence is misplaced. It’s clearly the first actual  _ decent massage  _ he’s been on the receiving end of, which means he doesn’t know just how good this shit can feel.

But Lance will show him.

On the screen in front of them, a school of fish shimmers in refracted light. But if he looks closer - if he focuses on the fleeting, darker spans across the screen - he can see Keith’s face in the reflection, watching the fish but not looking all that at ease where he sits on the floor between Lance’s legs.

Not yet, at least.

Lance applies a little more pressure…

Finds a knot just above his left shoulder blade, paying special attention to slowly working it out, and-

The pained hitch in Keith’s breath is quiet but telling. 

Lance keeps his eyes on the screen and his voice soothing. “That hurt...?” 

“...s’fine.”

“Liar.” But he’ll ease off for now. Sometimes it’s part of the process but it doesn’t  _ have  _ to be. Lance doesn’t  _ have  _ to work out all of Keith’s kinks right now if it does more damage than good to his sense of calm. “Tell me if it hurts…”

“...‘kay…”

Yeah, he’s definitely just gonna focus on chilling him out - on lulling him under like any good friend with magical fingers should do.

Another school of fish… 

Glimmering blue and green… 

Lance abandons direct, heavy pressure for something more soothing, his hands gently massaging now at both of Keith’s shoulders. His soft tee-shirt bunches under his touch...moves with the motion...leads to even softer skin as Lance presses his thumbs in slow circles up the back of Keith’s neck.

It has Keith’s head tilting forward just a little, possibly from the pressure, but more realistically from the sensation, because Lance knows first-hand just how incredible this shit feels.

A scene change - momentary dimming of bright colors - a peek at Keith’s reflection, how his eyelids have grown heavy as he watches, head listing with the rhythm of the circles Lance trace.

He’s definitely feeling it. But Lance won’t tease him. Because that’s the whole point, right? To chill his ass out? So why press it? Why not instead sweeten the deal, the pads of his thumbs transitioning into long, easy strokes as they reach the base of his skull?

The change in Keith’s breathing isn’t pained when he lets it out this time.

It’s unwound.

It’s  _ satisfied. _

They’ve definitely found their flow.

Lance doesn’t have to hide his grin as he continues, because the screen is flashing with the bright white of a sandy beach, drowning out their reflections momentarily. 

But Keith stays pliant under him. His breathing has leveled out into something dangerously calm. Something dangerously close to snoring territory. And Lance would be lying if he said he wasn’t dying to take him there himself. 

It’s how they find the next transition, the thumbs that were kneading sweetly at the base of his skull dropping away so Lance can steady him, one hand brushing up the side of his neck, the other carding through that soft, dark hair.

It’s a little more intimate, but the way Keith lets out that cute subconscious hum as Lance uses his fingernails to massage over his scalp? That tells him he’s just hit a home run.

And don’t get him wrong, Lance is happy to do it, it’s just-… 

Did he ever suspect Keith -  _ Keith  _ Keith - to so easily melt into a puddle from the feeling of fingers running through his hair? Certainly not. 

Lance is definitely gonna tuck this away for later.

On the screen in front of them, a dolphin calf swims closely to her mother. But what Lance is waiting for comes next. 

The momentary dim...

Keith’s reflection, his head held up but only because Lance’s hands are cradling him... 

And those eyes…

Those eyes are definitely shut.

Lips are definitely parted in even breaths.

Keith is 100% asleep in his hands right now.

Lance’s grin is fond. Maybe fonder than it should be, but it’s okay! Keith’s just cute, is all - lookin’ all serene as Lance oh-so gently helps him lower his head so it can rest back in his lap.

It’s more comfortable like this, you see. For both of them.

And this way it’s easier to run his fingers through his hair like Keith apparently likes, one hand coming up to cradle the side of his face, the other brushing his bangs back off his forehead in slow, therapeutic strokes. 

Keith’s eyes stay blissfully closed…

Lips stay blissfully parted…

Whole body stays blissfully at peace as he-...oh god he just leaned into the hand Lance has against his cheek. 

C-...

Cute…

Don’t take a Snap.

_ Don’t take a Snap. _

The chitter of dolphins talking on the TV should distract him, but Lance doesn’t really feel like looking away right now, to be honest. 

He doesn’t get to see this side of Keith too often. Not up close, at least. About the only time he’s ever seen him chilled out like this is when Lance sneaks a glass of water during the night, infomercials flickering over where Keith’s passed out on the couch instead of going home like he said he was going to.

But even then he’s not this peaceful. Not this  _ content. _

No. This is definitely some Extra Special Shit that Lance has got goin’ on in his lap right now. And he’s definitely not gonna spoil it - not for either of them. 

So gently he continues, lulling himself too as the cathartic stroke of his fingers through Keith’s hair mixes with the soothing sounds of the ocean.

He should really take a Snap before he falls asleep.

Should document this precious moment.

But soon, a soft little snore is drifting up between them. 

And who it’s from will stay between him and Keith forever.

* * *


	5. "You're Still Mad?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **You're Still Mad?**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** general audiences  
>  **Word-count:** 1,122 words  
>  **Summary:** There's a storm on the horizon line, and Keith wouldn't know about it if he was still in the bunkhouse playing games with the team and not out here trying to console his moody boyfriend. But he _loves_ his moody boyfriend. So where else in the galaxy would he be?  
>  **Additional Tags:** post-canon, established relationship, lance is a lil dramatic and keith tries to be a good boyfriend, there was a crazy storm passing by us a few nights ago and i knew i needed them in that setting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [more info on what these fics are for :)](https://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/post/613848736745078784/flash-klance-fic-sale-do-you-feel-like-you)

* * *

By the time Keith finds Lance, the storm has started its approach.

It’s still relatively far off on the horizon line, the fact that Lance has stuck himself under the property’s large tree not exactly posing a risk yet. But that doesn’t mean Keith’s in the clear. 

There’s more than one storm brewing.

“Cool tree.” 

Not his best conversation starter, but they both know this has never been Keith’s forte. Under usual circumstances, it’d be followed by a pity-laugh - something teasing but short because Lance knows he’s trying his best.

But tonight, there’s no pity-laugh. Just the rustle of the tree’s long leaves in the wind. The deep rumble of the thunder further out. The calculated silence as his boyfriend keeps his attention forward.

Right...

“You’re still mad…” More of an observation than a question.

But Lance’s answer is quick and purposeful in its nonchalance anyway. “No…”

It could fly with Pidge, or maybe Shiro, but it won’t fly with Keith.

Because he is.

He  _ is  _ still mad.

Keith can spot the way he carries his head just a little too proudly from a mile away. (And what does that say about  _ him?)  _ “Lance… It’s just a game…”

“Mm.”

“You won anyway-”

_ “Mm.” _

Keith steadies himself, his long breath in filling his lungs with the mist that the storm will soon bring. 

Okay. “I’m  _ sorry  _ I took Hunk.”

Again.

Again he’s saying this.

But maybe…

Beside him, Lance crosses his arms, bangs swept back by the breeze. “I’m  _ always  _ Hunk’s partner.”

“I know.”

“You stole him from me-”

“He’s good at predicting numbers - I thought it was a smart move-”

“If you’re gonna steal him from me at least bring me onto the team!” 

Keith swallows his next thought, the silence washing over them as Lance’s voice echoes into the night. It's too real. Too built up.

This isn’t about Hunk. 

Isn’t about the game.

Too much has been going wrong for Lance lately - straw after straw after straw that’s soon to break his back if he’s not careful. If-...if  _ they’re  _ not careful.

“Lance…” No response but a rumble of thunder… Lightning illuminating the dark clouds from behind… “Babe…”

Lance is proud and he’s stubborn but Keith is worse, the hand he reaches out gently lacing their fingers together between them.

It’s a small move but it still has Keith’s nerves kicking up after all this time - has them rolling like the heavy clouds above them. But even a move as small as this has the first cracks of light shining in the boy next to him.

Lance wiggles his fingers, slotting them more snuggly between Keith’s for a tighter hold.

But he doesn’t say anything.

Doesn’t look at him.

Just watches, light flickering sharply under the clouds as the storm approaches their spot.

There’s definitely a certain kind of beauty to it, Keith will give him that. But…

“Gotta ask why you’re out here instead of somewhere safe...”

“I’m communing with Mother Nature,” Lance says, straight-faced and gorgeous as he tilts his head up to soak in their surroundings. “Absorbing the storm elements...” 

It’s an outrageous thing to say but just so  _ Lance.  _ So  _ on-point  _ with the kind of dramatics that Keith has grown to love. And he must be staring for a beat too long, because one more good rumble of thunder rolls over them and then Lance is glancing over at him - pretty eyes reflecting - a small, amused smile dancing to life.

Keith’s heart flutters like it always does, and the dramatic backdrop does nothing but make it ten times more intense. 

Too much staring. Again. Keith’s bad at that lately, but… Maybe it’s just because he l-

The next gust of wind has a chill on its back, Lance’s shoulders drawing up as a shiver runs through him. Keith should have brought him his coat-

“I’m not cold,” Lance declares before he can be called out. “It’s beautiful out here.” But that was definitely a shiver. And those are definitely goosebumps that the chill left over his bare arms - the ones that cross as he lifts his head back to that just-too-proud pout when he says it, curtly. “I will, however, allow you to hold me for a sec.”

It’s in perfect time with a clash of lightning - close enough now to break over the clouds and streak across the dark sky - momentarily lighting the way for Keith to step closer - to slot himself up against Lance from behind and wrap his arms around him tightly.

It’s probably not even that warm. Probably doesn’t do that good a job at actually covering him. But Keith is warming up all the same, his insides melting in the very specific way they do when the two of them are touching.

Especially as Lance leans back into him - maybe chasing after his body heat - maybe chasing after something else. And the very first drop of rain lands on the tip of Keith’s nose as he says it, lowly in his ear.

“Let’s go for a scream-ride tomorrow.” His proposition is met with an uninterested grumble, just like he thought it'd be, but, “You need it.”

It’s tried and true, no matter how quickly Lance always dismisses the idea of going out on Keith’s bike and just fucking  _ yelling.  _ That shit’s cathartic, and Lance absolutely needs to let off a little steam after everything that’s been building on top of him lately.

Another gust of wind…

A few more drops of rain…

Lance pressing back into him, a hand reaching up to hold lightly at Keith’s forearm. “You gonna scream too...?”

The grin that spreads across Keith’s face is genuine - “You know I am.” - as is the little nuzzle of his nose at the soft skin beneath Lance’s ear. 

He’s always up for a good old angsty yell into the void.

Especially if it’s with the love of his life.

But for now, they should probably be making moves to get inside. Because the sky is about ready to open up above them, the wind now plucking leaves from their cover with ease.

“You done sucking up the storm elements?” 

Lance hums with thought, “Mm...no,” the theater of it feeling like home even a dozen galaxies away. But when he turns in Keith’s hold, it’s so he can face him, his soft smile melting Keith all over again. “I  _ will,  _ however, allow you to carry me inside.”

And really, who is Keith to deny such a reasonable and not at all dramatic request?

Lance’s legs wrap around him with ease - Keith’s precious cargo in tow - and as they skirt the edge of the storm, the laughter that bubbles up between them carries into the night.

Almost as cathartic as scream-riding.

* * *


	6. "Don't Apologize If You Don't Mean It."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **"Don't Apologize If You Don't Mean It."**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 1,511 words  
>  **Summary:** Keith is naked and tied up in the middle of the room and _still_ finds a way to be stubborn. But this isn't new to Lance. He knows exactly how to knock his boyfriend's attitude down a few pegs.   
> **Additional Tags:** restraints, spanking, toys, light humiliation, tease-y dom lance, stubborn sub keith, porn without plot yeehaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [more info on what these fics are for :)](https://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/post/613848736745078784/flash-klance-fic-sale-do-you-feel-like-you)

* * *

Of all the secret, nasty little scenarios that Lance has imagined himself in with Keith over the years, this is without a doubt his favorite one that’s come true. 

Because Keith looks fucking gorgeous standing here in the middle of their room, his wrists bound together and suspended over his head by the chain they hung from the ceiling.

He’s naked from head to toe, but that’s not even the part Lance finds the sexiest, he realizes on his third fully-clothed circle around him. No, it’s definitely the look in his eyes as he tracks his movements from his spot. The fiery defiance that Lance fucking  _ loves  _ to snuff out and turn needy with a firm voice and firmer hand.

They’re about half an hour in, but Keith’s already showing signs - is being greedy, thinking he can just  _ do whatever the fuck he wants _ without repercussions.

But Lance is more than happy to put him back in his place.

_ smack! _

The slap of his palm against Keith’s bare ass cheek is tasty. Even tastier? The little bit-off groan from the back of Keith’s throat as he’s forced to stand there and take it.

“Nowhere for you to go, is there?” Lance’s tone of pity is as played up as his frown, his act doing nothing but stoking the fire in both of them. “But who’s fault is it that you gotta get hit in the first place?”

He slowly makes his way back around, in full view just in time for Keith’s mumbled: “Sorry.”

And  _ oh,  _ that shit’s definitely not gonna fly.

_ “Hey,” _ Lance grabs him by the jaw - pulls his face closer by a few good inches, “don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.”

Because he absolutely does  _ not.  _ And he’s not even trying to hide it.

Brat. 

Lance can feel Keith flex his jaw under his fingers as they stare each other down. Can see his shoulders squaring, muscles tensing prettily in the dim light. It’s a wonder Lance has any self control at all and doesn’t just fuck him here and now. 

But there’s more fun to be had. Fun that neither of them want to miss out on. So, releasing his hold on him without a single touch more, he steps around behind him again, making sure to fire off a clipped: “And wipe that smirk off your face, won’t you sweetheart?”

He can’t see if his order is being followed from back here, but that’s hardly important to Lance now. Not when he’s got full access to Keith’s ass - to admire and touch and-

_ smack!  _

The quick intake of breath gives away how off guard it catches Keith, his cock fully hard in front of him and probably bouncing cutely from the impact if Lance happened to take a peek.

Actually, you know what? That sounds exactly like something he wants to see.

_ smack! _

Lance’s grin is amused - mocking as he makes a show out of leaning his head over Keith’s shoulder to watch his cock bounce freely with every slap to his ass.

_ smack! _

Ugh, so cute.

_ smack! _

He has to chuckle at it.

_ smack! _

“Hhha- Lance-”

“Sh sh sh-” he’s quick to silence him. “Lemme enjoy the show, baby.”

He just wants to watch his cock swing around a little, and he’s going to. For as long as he wants. Regardless of how red Keith’s ears are turning, once again forced to stand there and take whatever Lance feels like doing to him.

And right now, it’s this.

_ smack!  _

“Haha - god you’re cute.” And definitely not smirking anymore. So that’s a double-win. “Wish I could just keep you strung up for me all the fuckin’ time…” 

He’s almost wistful with it, the daydream both leaving his heart longing as it plays out in his head, and leaving his hand to smooth absentmindedly over the heated skin he’s left reddened. 

Ahh...how Lance would love that, as impossible as it is. 

But he’s got him here now - the sound of Keith’s thick, steadying swallow reminds him of that immediately. And he intends to suck up every single second they have tonight. 

So!

“How ya doin’ up there?” He asks it as he walks around him again, no longer needing to specify when it’s a question they’re both familiar with.

The immediate clink of the chain from Keith flexing his leather wrist bindings above him is proof enough of that. “Too tight.”

He says it in a grumble -  _ whining  _ \- and it takes all Lance has in him to not make a mockery of it.

_ “Too tight?”  _ He swings around to face him. (Okay, maybe just a tiny bit of mockery.) “Ever think that maybe I  _ want  _ ‘em to be too tight on you?” They’re face to face now. Nowhere to hide. But Keith isn’t hiding, brow furrowed insolently even as Lance turns his back to him, feigning indifference to his needs as he grabs the hitachi wand waiting for him on the dresser. And yet...toy heavy in his hand while he looks it over: “Gimme a color.” 

Just in case.

Real fucking quick.

Because if Keith is actually-

“...green...”

Lance’s thumb brushes over the toy’s ON button, his smile small but fond and totally hidden. 

Green. 

So Keith’s just being huffy to be huffy.

Well, Lance can fix that.

The flash of concerned recognition in Keith’s eyes as soon as they land on the hitachi is that good n’ tasty again, each easy step Lance takes toward him raising it higher and higher.

“Mm…” Lance clicks his tongue with pity, settling in front of where he’s stuck, just close enough to have the toy disappearing from Keith’s sight between them. “You know I like my boys nice, right baby? ...obedient?” ...amping up the suspense…  _ “...respectful…” _

It’d be the perfect time to turn the wand on but he doesn’t. Because Keith expects it - brow etching to grit through the buzz that doesn’t come yet. But it will. Whenever Lance fucking feels like it. He’s got all the power in his greedy little hands and he’s not afraid to play with it - to play with Keith.

It’s what his boyfriend deserves, after all.

“How badly you wanna be free right now…?” The tease is just too easy, his gaze flicking to where Keith pulls against the restraints, then down again. “Get to use your hands… Get to touch…” 

The chain pulls tightly where they’ve looped it into the ceiling - hard - past testing and entering that first fleeting glimpse of desperation to _get_ _out._

_ “Fuck…” _

“Hm?” Lance can practically  _ see  _ the attitude starting to rise up around him, stoked from the teasing that they both know damn well turns him on. “You say somethin’?”

Keith huffs, eyes dark, “I said f-” but that’s all Lance allows, the time finally coming as he presses the hitachi wand against the sweet spot under the head of his aching cock and slides it on to a healthy medium.

He does it all without looking - a pro at sneak attacks such as this by now. 

And besides, he’d much rather watch Keith’s cute fucking face - how his eyes squeeze shut and face scrunches in overwhelming pleasure - the immediate tense of all his muscles from the thick, heavy buzz between his legs.

Lance watches it all up close, eyes roaming casually over his distress, lips curling in an amused smile because Keith’s moving - he’s trying to walk backwards - trying to back away from the vibration but, “Oh- where ya goin’?” Lance never lets it happen, following after him as far as the taught chain will let them both move, the wand staying perfectly snug against where his darling man is probably leaking precum all over the floor. 

It’s a lost cause and Keith must know it, the strangled moan leaving his voice to crack in the most precious way as he tries his best to stay on his tiptoes,  _ leaning leaning leaning away  _ but-

Lance clicks the vibration off but keeps the toy pressed snug. 

A warning. 

Leverage as he puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder, tilting his head to catch those eyes that’re still squeezed shut. “Look at me.”

His voice has dropped low, but that smirk is far from leaving his face. Especially as Keith listens - fucking finally - his chest quickly rising and falling as his eyes open, pupils blown nice and pretty. 

It’s all despite his best efforts. His questionable choices. His plan to escape that was so doomed from the fucking start that Lance has to chuckle to himself, gaze heavy as he slides his hand around to the small of his back so he can ease him down onto two solid feet again.

Honestly…

This boy.

“You’re not an idiot, baby,” he grins, “don’t act like one.” 

Keith’s swallow is thick. Voice is on its way to being properly broken. “...sorry…”

And Lance can’t wait to take it there himself. But. 

"Hey. Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it…”  He presses their lips together in a solid, grounding kiss.

And then he slides the hitachi wand on high. 

* * *


	7. “I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **“I can’t stand seeing you like this.”**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** general audiences  
>  **Word-count:** 1,496 words  
>  **Summary:** Keith is Prince Lance's personal royal guard, which means no matter how long they've known each other - no matter how they feel about each other - he has a certain place on the hierarchy where he must stay. Even if Lance is supposed to marry soon. And even if Lance isn't coping with that very well.   
> **Additional Tags:** Royal AU, that brand of "we love each other but we can't say but we both know" angst, yearning.com, alcohol, semi-happy ending
> 
> [more info on what these fics are for :)](https://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/post/628192282477297664/flash-klance-fic-sale-autumn-round-do-you)

* * *

Keith loses him, but only for a minute. 

Only long enough for the prince to dip out of the Great Hall and out from under the eyes of the people here to see him.  Quick. Silent. A disappearing act, but only for a minute.

Because Keith already knows where to look.

He finds him with little effort. And if the prince of the castle really wanted to hide, then maybe he shouldn’t do it somewhere as obvious as his own bed chambers. 

But that’s for another day.

A day where things are much  _ less.  _ A day that doesn’t leave his crown slipping off onto the balcony’s ledge, the rest of him slumped against it in a carry that certainly doesn’t suit a prince.

But Lance is much more than just a prince.

Keith quiets his steps, palm to the hilt of his undrawn sword as he rounds the bed to widen his view of the balcony. It’s overcautious, but necessary. He can’t even fathom being caught with his guard down when that’s his exact purpose here. To guard. To protect  _ Lance,  _ no matter what.

But it seems it’s unneeded now. Because the prince in question is very much alone out there. Very much in his head. Is sipping - wine goblet upturned until it’s become more of a gulp - every last droplet drained before he’s placing it next to his forgotten crown and returning to his slump, hand massaging over his tired eyes. 

It’s not right.

Keith steadies himself. 

Steadies his heart.

Steadies the instincts that he still can’t shake at times. To go to him. To act out of line. To forget, entirely, their place in the very real hierarchy - a prince and his personal royal guard.

It would be too easy. 

It would do too much damage - Lance is already coming unhinged right before his eyes, from the Great Hall and the drink and the expectations that are being thrust upon him more and more at these gatherings. The suitors who shouldn’t  _ be _ and yet appear like magic, the king pulling their strings from the shadows. 

It’s not right. 

But Keith steadies himself.

Steadies his heart.

Steadies his nerves as an echo from the hall turns his prince’s attention into the room - to where Keith is standing, as he should be, as he always is, as he wants to be for as long as he can until-

“Hmm…” Lance’s tone has taken shape as he saunters in, but it’s hollow. A performance, now that he knows he’s being watched. It’s upkeep, noticeable perhaps not to all, but to someone who’s spent the last ten years close to his side… “Five whole minutes. You’re getting sloppy.”

Keith answers with a conserved smile... Doesn’t know how to tell him that he’s about four minutes off. That he’s been here for the better portion of it, actually - privy to the emotions he stepped away specifically to hide.

It’s better if he just says  _ nothing. _ It always is. His instincts may be screaming until they’re raw inside him, but he’s been trained to hide too. To maintain for the good of the throne. 

It’s becoming more and more difficult. Each season they grow closer to Lance’s supposed marriage. The  _ things  _ he wants to say - god help him. 

It’d be too easy. 

It’d do too much damage. 

_ It isn’t right. _

“What’s the matter...” Lance is pouring himself more wine from the decanter he must've taken from the gathering, but his attention has fixed knowingly on where his protector stands. 

He might be just as good at reading Keith’s face as Keith is at reading his. It’s frustrating. It’s infuriatingly intimate. 

But Keith can fight it all the same. “Nothing.”

“Mm, your face says otherwise-”

“It’s _ nothing,  _ your highness.”

His insistence is combed over for too long. Too close. Infuriating intimacy. And when Lance’s small, sad smile drops to the rim of his goblet, attention falling away as well, it’s with a somber tone he says it... “Liar.” ...like he’s-... 

Like he’s disappointed.

Keith swallows down the lump in his throat that shouldn’t be there. Beats back the ache in his chest that shouldn’t either as he watches Lance take a drink, drowning his own insensibilities. 

It’s grown to be a too-common sight during nights like these - when the expectations are high and the future is uncomfortably close. A goblet turns to two. To three. To four and five and six and Lance is crying on the balcony… Crying in the garden… Crying on Keith’s shoulder, nothing actually needing to be said because they both know it - they both feel it pulling them in as the world pulls  _ outward - away - apart. _

And…

And it’s…

Keith steadies himself. Steadies his heart. Steadies his gaze, fixed on the fire dancing in the fireplace. “It’s not right.”

Lance stills in his corner of his vision. 

But this is not Keith’s prince. This is not Lance, who bustles around the castle with a smile that casts glittering armor and unguarded hearts aglow. Lance, who’s sharp, witty tongue has gotten Keith’s sword drawn in one too many of their coveted secret tavern trips.

This is not Lance. 

Not the Lance Keith knows.

“I…” Composure. Hierarchy. Keith has a place and needs to remember it, but-

“What…” but Lance can read him like a book. “What is it.”

And it’s the exact kind of infuriating intimacy that has Keith overstepping, words falling out of his mouth like treason. “I just-... I  _ can’t stand  _ seeing you like this.”

The way it lingers between them shows just how out of turn he’s being. “I’m alright-”

“You’re not,” he can feel his head shaking. “You’re not-”

But, “I will be.” Lance says it with such blind confidence. A sliver of his real self. So naive when they both know uncomfortably well how far from naive he truly-  _ “We  _ will be.”

Something in Keith’s chest stutters, his prince’s wording too specific to not be deliberate. 

It’s what has the ache growing when Lance steps toward him, somehow worsening and growing warm at the exact same time as he comes to settle in front of him, tired eyes and tired smile.

But...

“We’ll be okay.” 

Keith has no choice but to let it sink in. To let it calm his tightly-wound nerves. All that he’s hidden away for the sake of the crown. 

There’s nowhere to hide when they’re this close. Especially at the feeling of Lance’s finger under his chin, gently raising his face back to where Keith should be carrying it in the first place. 

And if he were a stronger man - a stronger soldier - he would be able to meet his prince’s gaze. But he’s already said too much. He’s already overstepped. So when Lance’s thumb brushes sweetly over his cheek...when Lance’s hand slips lightly from under his chin to linger where it shouldn’t, Keith can’t stop his eyes from closing.

Just to stay grounded.

To fully appreciate the forbidden but precious touch before it has to disappear. 

And oh...the almost-whisper, hand cradling his protector’s cheek. “I can’t stand seeing  _ you  _ like this.”

It has Keith’s gaze returning, his own words packing too full a punch when they’re said back to him. Infuriating intimacy as they take each other in. “And yet…”

Lance smiles… Sad… “And yet.”

The fire roars behind him. Between them. A force just as beyond their control as Lance marrying off.

But what’s to be done. 

What can they do.

The familiar bluster of the king’s voice echoes from the hall as if on cue, Keith silently wishing things upon him that would absolutely be considered treason if they saw the light of day. Because he’s looking for his son. No doubt has other suitors waiting impatiently for his return. 

And as much as Keith’s heart begs for him to be selfish just this once… “Looks like you’re needed back in the hall.”

Lance’s face should fall - his mood should sour even more than it already has. Which is why when Keith recognizes that moment of clear, internal decisiveness flash across his face - “Think I got something else in mind.” - he can only focus on the endorphins that flood him from that equally familiar grin of mischief. “You seen my tavern robes?”

It’s a bit of an emotional whiplash. Has him missing the touch as Lance’s hand disappears, but intrigued by the way he moves around his chambers on a mission like-... Like before. 

The Lance he knows.

Keith steps carefully. The familiarity of it all is so easy to fall back into that he can’t help but grin as he watches Lance throw on the identity-concealing tavern robes in question. “I’m obligated to tell you this is a bad idea.”

Routine. 

A prince and his personal royal guard.

And, their routine continued:

“Okay.” Lance smiles, looking more like himself than he has in months as he throws Keith his own classic undercover robes, and then heads toward the balcony. “Now come on.”

* * *


	8. “Stop being grumpy. It’s lame.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **“Stop being grumpy. It’s lame."**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** teen  
>  **Word-count:** 1,409 words  
>  **Summary:** Lance loves his boyfriend unconditionally, including when his Grumpy Gland rares its ugly head while they hang out with friends. It's not like Keith means to be cranky. And besides, Lance knows all he needs is a little lovin' to clear those gray clouds.  
>  **Additional Tags:** established relationship, fluff and lovin' that gets maybe a lil risque, keith be grumpy but lance loves him anyway uwu
> 
> [more info on what these fics are for :)](https://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/post/628192282477297664/flash-klance-fic-sale-autumn-round-do-you)

* * *

It happens every once in a while. Sometimes with warning, sometimes without. But Lance is a certified veteran when it comes to handling these things.

You see, Keith is like that x-ray that slides over the Grinch’s heart to show it growing five sizes and bursting through the frame. Only instead of his heart, it’s his grumpiness gland. 

And you know what? That’s okay. Lance loves him and his overactive grumpy gland, and he always will. Because it's not like Keith can help it. It’s not like he _enjoys_ going around all cranky and grumbly.

Plus, it may or may not be kinda fun to pull him out of it - his little grey-cloud-covered self - especially when they’re elsewhere. Out at a bar. In a movie. At someone else’s house, like today, everyone gathered around the TV taking turns with the Switch.

As the host, Hunk had immediately done everything in his power to lighten the mood for Keith. But sometimes it just takes a special touch. Sometimes Lance just needs to follow Keith into the kitchen, leaving the rest of them to play in the other room. 

If Lance pulled out the Grinch x-ray right now, his boyfriend’s grumpiness would be bursting through that motherfucker like nobody’s business.

Clearly it’s time for some intervention.

His approach is calm, almost routine-like as he comes to slot himself against Keith where he’s rinsing a glass at the sink. The sudden touch from behind has Keith tensing, but only a little - only a millisecond before settling into the safety of the hold.

Lance’s lips curl into a small, hidden grin, but that’s it. There’s still a long way to go. Can’t risk getting too cocky. 

Nope - he starts this shit out gentle. A nuzzle into his hair. A gentle press of his lips against the shell of his ear. Keith doesn’t pull away, but that doesn’t stop his trademark grumble from making an appearance.

“Mm.”

 _“'Mm',”_ Lance mocks lightly, but it’s all in good fun. They’ve already discussed it. It’s been established that nothing is specifically _wrong_ today. Nothing concrete that Lance can actually fix or change. And sometimes a little teasing snaps his beloved back into shape. “Cranky as hell…”

No response. Nothing verbal. And if Lance peeks at their reflections in the window in front of them, he can see the scowl still very much present.

Okay, no problem.

Nothing a little more lovin’ can’t fix. Another kiss or two, lips lingering over the shell of Keith’s ear before pressing tenderly down the side of his neck.

It’s his sweet spot, the way his shoulders scrunch up a clear-cut sign that it’s working. Even through that grumble. That murmured, “ugh-...Lance…”

Because Lance is willing to fight for it. Is more than happy to nose his way back in and bury his face, smile curling and voice muffled. _“Stop bein' grumpy...”_ he murmurs into him, _“...it’s lame...”_

It’s an obvious observation. One that a less experienced Lance would never have dared to utter. But there’s just something about it - the tease of it - the attention - it works on his boyfriend like a charm. The moment Lance figures out the specifics of _why,_ he’ll put that shit in writing. But for now, he’ll enjoy the way Keith unscrunches his shoulders, still grumpy but making room for Lance to give him attention.

And give him attention, he will!

In the living room, something especially killer must happen, because Pidge’s yelling has reached peak gamer rage. But Lance isn’t concerned with that right now. All he’s concerned with is pressing in - licking his lips and sucking at the crook of Keith’s neck.

It’s light. Not hickey-worthy. Because he’s not going for hickeys right now. He’s going for the-

“Hhhh…”

Mm, there it is. That decompression breath. 

Lance hums with interest, his hold around his beloved storm cloud squeezing a bit as he finds a new place, higher on Keith’s neck, to lick over and start sucking at again.

In the sink, Keith’s hands have stopped moving entirely, the glass still sudsy where he holds it. His scowl is trickier to melt away - a quick glance at their reflection can tell him that - but his eyes have definitely closed. Grumpy but at least calm now. Mellowed out.

Lance can’t lie, he’s pleased with the transition, and more specifically how easily it’s come. He hums quietly again, the tip of his nose nuzzling sweetly in his boyfriend’s hair-line as he slips over to the other side. 

Keith’s hair always smells so good. His shampoo bottle says cucumber but there’s definitely something else in there. Something floral. 

“Lance…”

Keith’s tone has lost almost all of its grouchiness, enough to have Lance smiling sweetly as he brushes his lips up the side of his neck to hover at his ear, “Yeah, baby…?”

Their easy sway back and forth is so chill that Lance didn’t even realize he was leading it until now. Or maybe they both just fell into it. (It wouldn’t be the first time, honestly.) Either way…

Either way, Keith isn’t following up. He’s just vibin’. Just floatin’, brow not only far from scowl territory, but furrowing just the slightest as Lance takes his time grazing his teeth over the sensitive spot higher up on his neck.

Lance can see it coming - the Full Transformation, and more importantly _which_ transformation. He can read it on his face, no matter how hazy their reflection in the window may be. 

Because look, sometimes Keith emerges from his Grumpy Cocoon as a quiet, peaceful butterfly, and sometimes Keith emerges from his Grumpy Cocoon as a _horny_ butterfly. It all depends on the methods used to coax him out. 

And uh…

You've already seen which one Lance defaulted to.

Behind them, a third reflection appears as Hunk walks into the kitchen unaware, his laid-back _Hunk-ness_ immediately narrowing down into a pause, a silent “ope”, and a quick fall back into a faux moonwalk outta the kitchen the second his eyes land on the situation happening at his sink. 

Lance suppresses his laugh - (God he loves Hunk, he’s gotta buy him a meal or something after this gets worked out) - and then slips his hands up from where he's holding Keith to slowly twist the water tap back on.

He keeps it all close. All comfy. Kisses up his moody boyfriend’s neck and helps bring the sudsy glass in his hand under the stream of water. They rinse it out together. Slowly. More Lance than Keith but that’s okay. Keith can focus on getting loved on right now. He can appreciate how Lance sets the clean glass aside on the counter without looking and then brings Keith’s hands under the warm water to gently rinse off too.

Lance has gotta admit, it’d be one of their sexier moments if Pidge wasn’t currently raging in the living room about Shiro stealing a star. But it’s still pretty sexy. And it’s definitely working Keith over from head to toe, his body slotting more comfortably into Lance’s front as Lance massages little circles into his palms in the warm water. 

And…

“...Lance…”

It’s coming. For real this time. Lance can smell it in the air. “...yeah, baby…?”

It’s only a matter of moments, one more swirl of his thumbs over Keith’s palms before he says it, a little dazed but far from confused, “...wanna go home…?”

Lance grins into the side of his neck. There’s his horny little butterfly. “Mhm.”

Things are still erupting in the living room when they traverse through it for the door, Pidge pulling up Toad’s star-progress graph compared to the others and Shiro responding with a mystified “It’s the game!”

But that’s okay. Lance and Keith will just make their exit, Lance shooting Hunk a chill “I’ll textya” and getting an equally chill two-finger salute in return.

As soon as the front door closes behind them, that good-good autumn air hits and everything settles back into the hazy calm that they created for themselves in the kitchen. 

But nothing beats the feeling of Keith’s hand slipping into his, fingers lacing loosely.

Lance smiles, eyes set to the road home as he brings their hands up and smooches Keith’s. Just for the cuteness of it. To string along their sense of calm for as long as he can.

Because Post-Grumpy Now-Horny sex with Keith hits a very specific type of way too. 

But that’s a story for another time.

* * *


	9. "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **"Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** explicit  
>  **Word-count:** 2,000 words  
>  **Summary:** Lance is four days deep into a mission away from his boyfriend, and to say he's feeling it is an understatement. But holy shit, he did NOT expect to get a intergalactic booty call from him. (Spoiler: he's not complaining.)  
>  **Additional Tags:** **trans keith, **afab language, video phone sex, established relationship, lance is fucking thiiiiirsty and keith is here for it
> 
> [more info on what these fics are for :)](https://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/post/628192282477297664/flash-klance-fic-sale-autumn-round-do-you)

* * *

The light from Juryn’s double-moon seeps peacefully into Lance’s private accommodations - the perfect vibe to apply his face cream to and then call it a night.

With his and Allura’s fourth day of negotiations finished, the brunt of their work on this planet is finally over. And boy, can Lance really tell, his reflection looking downright ragged when it looks back at him.

But no worries! It’s nothing a little self-care can’t fix.

His face cream is as pleasantly cool as always when he dips a few fingers into the jar. It’s the perfect homey addition to the light of his phone screen brightening on the counter below him.

And ah...there’s that beautiful face he loves seeing on his caller-ID.

He grins, using a clean pinky to tap the answer button without looking, “Light Of My Life,” and then leans in to rub the face cream over his cheeks, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

_ “I miss you…” _

The voice on the other end is quiet but unmistakable. Understated but everything to him. Has Lance’s heart dancing fondly while he focuses on rubbing in his face cream. “Miss you too, babe, but I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

They both know that. Just one more day. One more measly day and then they’ll be reunited. 

It’s not the first time they’ve been separated for this long, but usually it’s Lance calling first. And don’t get him wrong - being on the receiving end of the  _ I miss you  _ is cute and all, it’s just…

The sigh that comes from the video feed is less of a sigh and more of a heavy breath. Less of a heavy breath and more something that draws Lance’s attention in the most curious way, his eyes finally falling from the mirror and glancing down at the call to see-

_...oh. _

He recognizes that wall.

And... 

Lance’s grin slowly morphs into one of intrigue, his words careful as they piece together. “So…not that you aren’t welcome...but is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Because he is suddenly  _ very _ aware of his boyfriend’s bare shoulders. Is  _ very  _ aware of how heavy his eyelids are… How low his voice is when he says it, his swallow thick.  _ “Mhm.” _

And oo lord. Is what he thinks is happening actually happening?

Is he-...?

Lance quickly assesses his privacy - dips out of frame for a second to make sure the door is locked before coming right back.

And okay, maybe grabbing his phone and immediately falling onto the room’s water bed makes him a thirsty bitch, but let’s be serious. Lance made peace with being a thirsty bitch a long time ago. And besides, he wouldn’t even be  _ getting  _ this call from Keith if that wasn’t already established, now would he.

Lance settles in, unable to wipe the mischievous grin from his face as he presses, intrigue swirling like crazy in his belly. “Dang, baby - you havin’ fun over there without me?” 

It’s got Keith humming shortly - noncommittal - but the smallest fraction of a smirk that dances across his face goes straight to Lance’s dick. 

That little demon, he’s gonna make him work for it, isn’t he?

The camera tilts just the slightest bit as Keith shifts, still silent, but doing unspeakable damage to Lance’s self control as he brings up the hand that’s been purposely out of shot until now, his middle and ring fingers glistening in the dim light before disappearing into his mouth.

And  _ fuck.  _ Okay yeah, what he thinks is going on is  _ definitely  _ going on. There’s no denying it now.

Lance calms himself as best as he can, content to watch his boyfriend suck his own fingers, but at the same time four days deep into their sex-drought. So. “You gonna keep all’a that a secret, or…”

Keith answers the leading question with another noncommittal hum, his fingers sliding from between his lips with a slick  _ pop. “Why… You wanna see…?” _

And  _ oh.  _ Is that even a question? “Of fucking  _ course  _ I wanna see.” Does he really have to be teased about it?

His unashamed thirst must be amusing, because Keith’s smirk is growing.  _ “Maybe…”  _ But the camera stays true on his face.  _ “Lemme see  _ you _ first.” _

Bargaining. 

A game.

Lance does a bad job at suppressing his chuckle and he doesn’t even care. Because when has he  _ ever  _ turned down a challenge when it’s Keith initiating it?

Yeah. He’s definitely down to play.

The water bed sloshes beneath him as he brings himself up and over to the mirror, setting his phone down but just for a second - just to take his shirt off - and then he’s holding it back up - pointing it at his reflection in the mirror - slowly slowly slowly stepping out of his pants until he’s revealed exactly what his boyfriend is looking for.

It’s a rush. A real pump to his ego. Especially Keith’s little murmur of appreciation as he watches his cock spring from his pants, already hard.

Lance makes sure to frame his reflection as perfectly as he can… Turns to catch that good double-moon lighting... Maybe zooms in on his hand as he drags it down his chest...down his stomach...all the way down until wrapping around his cock.

It’s vanity at its finest.

But Keith’s eating it up. 

“You like that, babe?”

_ “Mm...mhm…”  _ His fingers trail down out of frame and back into tasty territory, the way his eyelashes flutter saying all that needs to be said. _ “Wanna see how much?” _

Lance’s lip-bite is purely anticipatory. It keeps him at an eager but well-behaved, “Mhmm…” And it drops  _ immediately,  _ into something open and blown away as Keith’s camera dips into a shot so overwhelmingly perfect that it leaves Lance honest to god speechless.

Because holy-...

“Ohhh my  _ god, _ baby…” Lance breathes out in admiration, eyes drinking in the gorgeous sight of Keith’s pussy - sweet and plump and  _ wet,  _ Keith’s fingers playing with it in slow circles while he shows it to him.

It’s a critical hit.

A motherfucking  _ knockout,  _ Lance’s cock jumping in his hand from just the sight of him.

“Oh my god, I need to be home.”

Keith huffs a breathy laugh, his face still in frame near the top of the feed.  _ “...want you here…” _

Fuck, if only. If only they were one day later. Lance would be there absolutely fucking  _ face-first  _ in that pussy, holy shit.

Keith’s camera sways, but only so he can shift higher in Lance’s bed - on Lance’s pillow - aiming that angle to perfection and slipping a couple fingers between his folds as he watches Lance stroke himself.

He’s way too good at this way too soon. It’s got Lance itching to go feral already, “God, you’re so hot,” eyes fixed on him in appreciation. “Spread yourself for me, baby…”

Thirsty.

But, again. He’ll stop when Keith stops asking for it. When he stops eating it up just as hungrily, his fingers doing exactly what Lance asks for and slowly spreading himself in front of the camera for him - slick folds...clit plump and juicy as fuck and just  _ waiting  _ for someone to come suck on it. 

It’s got Lance’s mouth legit  _ watering.  _ Has his head spinning with everything he wants to do to him. Has him groaning in both appreciation and frustration because he  _ can’t touch - fuck, why can’t he be a few planets closer. _

_ “When you come home, you’re gonna eat me out.” _

Lance’s chuckle is wrecked. “Yes, I fucking am - holy shit, babe.” That’s number one on the docket. Hands down. “Gonna eat that pussy so well your thighs shake.”

Oo, Keith likes that shit. It’s obvious with how those thighs in question squeeze and his fingers go straight to his clit.  _ “Mm…”  _ It’s pleased. Fully interested.  _ “...say more of that…” _

Lance grins. Can’t resist the tease, his own hand starting to work a little quicker. “What - you need _me_ to get off or somethin’…? Can’t do it yourself…?”

It’s harder to keep in-frame like this - to keep his shot steady - but he’ll do anything, honestly, as long as Keith’s perfect little self stays on the other line. 

_ “I can,”  _ comes the murmur, the fingers that were playing with his clit now slipping down to slowly disappear inside of him.  _ “But I’d rather you do it...” _

It works up Lance’s body like magic. The pleasure of stroking himself is absolutely nothing compared to the shit he’s getting from watching his boyfriend finger fuck himself. “Hm. Well that’s fine,” he supposes with a cheeky smile. As if he isn’t chasing after it just as hard. “Guess I can make that cute pussy cum from all the way over here.”

And oh, the rush of Keith’s hips bucking as soon as he hears it - of his fingers pulling away from himself to fight it off - to ease it back.

Lance’s grin is devilish - he knows - but  _ Jesus.  _ Did that really just happen? “Oo, come on a little quicker than you thought, baby?” 

Holy shit, how can someone be so sexy and so cute at the same time?

Keith’s steadying the furrow of his brow.  _ “Shut up-” _

But: “Mm-mm-mm, don’t stop. Keep touching yourself.”

He expects more of a blow-back, but Keith’s camera sways again - a subject-less huff - and then he’s coming back into frame, the pads of his fingers rubbing almost non-existent circles over himself. 

Because if Lance knows anything about Keith’s body, it’s that his clit is  _ throbbing  _ right now, so close to an orgasm that he’s straight-up pulsing and on the brink of coming.

It’s giving Lance some major FOMO - he’d kill a man to be there right now - to be the one baiting him with little kitten-licks until Keith’s losing it and rubbing his pussy on his face. But since that’s not an option at present, he’s willing to use his knowledge for good (or evil?), his own hand starting to chase after the pooling pleasure as he continues. “Faster, baby.”

He’s barely gonna have to work for this - Keith is already close - but he’s absolutely gonna milk as much fun out of it as he can in the process. 

Because his suggestion is being taken without a word, Keith’s fingers moving quicker, his thighs starting to tremble.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Lance encourages, taking in all his boyfriend’s glory. “Faster... Pretend I’m there...” FOMO, FOMO, FOMO. “...pretend it’s my tongue...” FOMO, but Lance is honestly about to cum all on his own. 

He just can’t do it before Keith, no matter how hot this is. 

Not after the shit he gave him.

“C’mon baby - cum for me,” fuck - he’s so close and Keith’s so gorgeous, his head pressing into Lance’s pillow and taking a big breath in, “make that pussy cum for me, baby-”

The sound of bed sheets rustling over the speaker as Keith’s phone slips off into them is loud, but not as loud as those heated, stuttering breaths as he loses it a few planets away. 

It’s got Lance’s orgasm flooding - punching through him - his knees going weak as he stands there and cums in front of the mirror. Just in case Keith’s watching on the other side. A show for a show.

And fuck - woo boy - okay, he needs to sit down.

The water bed sloshes in waves beneath him as he collapses onto it.

He’s ready to ride out the aftershocks. Ready to catch his breath. Ready to reach for his phone when he hears it after some time - the muffled:  _ “Hey…” _

Keith’s waiting for him there, little mellow smile and all. He’s lying down too. Has half his face buried in Lance’s pillow. Is getting all those feelings stirred right back up, but…

_ “See you tomorrow.” _

Lance lets out a content sigh, sliding himself up to mirror his boyfriend on the other side of the bed and prop the phone up on the pillow. 

“See you tomorrow, babe.” 

He’s gonna blow his fucking mind.

This FOMO shit is gonna be a thing of the past.

* * *


	10. “Can we just watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **"Can we just watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch?"**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** mature  
>  **Word-count:** 1,308 words  
>  **Summary:** Keith's chaotic-neutral plans are fun and all, but tonight, Lance just wants to chill on the couch. Just wants to cuddle and watch The Haunted Mansion. Just wants to discuss, in detail, the probability of Keith still wanting to have sex with him if he were a ghost. You know, normal cozy autumn things :)  
>  **Additional Tags:** established relationship, cuddling, calm discussion of hypothetical ghostly fucking, they're both weirdos in their own way and that's why they're a good pair uwu
> 
> [more info on what these fics are for :)](https://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/post/628192282477297664/flash-klance-fic-sale-autumn-round-do-you)

* * *

By the time they get home from the pumpkin patch and get all showered and comfy, Lance is ready to just veg-out - in both spirit and body.

It’s been a good day. A fun one. But when he gets that age-old question from his sweetheart - “Whatdya wanna do now?” \- all the muscles in Lance’s body start screaming at him for reprieve.

Because he loves his boyfriend - he does - but sometimes Keith can be a little...well...chaotic. Sometimes things can go a bit off-the-wall when he’s the one at the reins. And Lance just honest to god doesn’t have it in him right now to go explore a clearly demon-infested abandoned house. Or to accidentally mess with the energies boppin’ around in the cemetery down the road. Nothing chaotic. Nothing Keith-brand. Not tonight at least.

So.

“Can we just watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch?”

It’s a humble request. One that leaves little room for accidental demon-stirring. And when Keith seems to think it through, towel rubbing over his wet hair until it’s reached certified Cutie status, Lance is almost sure something else is about to be suggested. Something with just a touch more anarchy. 

But.

“That sounds nice, actually.”

And oh! The bells of sweet victory!

The euphoria!

Reprieve!

It’s how he finds himself in the most blissfully comfortable setup in his short life - stretched out on the couch on top of Keith, his head on his chest, their cute little fake fireplace flickering below the TV as The Haunted Mansion with Eddie Murphy plays above it.

It’s literal Spooky Season Heaven on Earth, and you can quote him on that.

Lance hums with satisfaction, readjusting his face against Keith’s soft t-shirt. He’d be remiss to not take a moment to appreciate his chest muscles...the freshness of his body wash...the way he can feel his heart beating steadily beneath all that. It’s all very comfy and grounding and everything Lance loves, wrapped up tight with the sound of Eddie Murphy screaming about butler ghosts on the TV.

Keith’s chest vibrates from his low chuckle as he watches - music to Lance’s ears. 

And Lance has gotta wonder if he’s just as content. Just as comfortable. If he gets as much out of this as he would traipsing through a cemetery or an abandoned church or a haunted mansion of their own.

Keith’s hand drops from checking his phone to settle over the small of Lance’s back - even more grounding - but Lance’s brain has already snagged on that last one. 

A haunted mansion of their own. 999 rooms and 999 spirits. 

Keith would definitely be the spooky owner. There’s no denying he’s got that dark, mysterious, sexy Master Gracey vibe. But... 

But that’d make Lance Elizabeth. 

Ghost-Elizabeth. 

Lance would be a ghost.

On screen, the camera pans over the mansion’s ballroom, too many of said ghosts to count as they twirl together in perfect circles. It has Lance’s imagination wandering… Has him playing out curious and impossible scenarios in his mind... Has him turning his head, his chin digging into Keith’s chest as he tries his best to read his boyfriend’s face.

It doesn’t go unnoticed. 

It’s entertained - yes - for a couple solid moments, and then Keith is calmly turning his head too, meeting Lance’s easy, close-up stare with his own.

He waits. Like a good boyfriend. Lets Lance formulate his thought in silence and doesn’t pull a face even when Lance asks it, completely serious. 

“If I was a ghost would you still have sex with me?”

He should get a brush-off. A dismissive  _ ‘yeah babe, whatever’  _ or some critical judgement or  _ something. _

But Keith is Keith. Keith has chaos flowing through his veins, the concept of a little ghost-fucking clearly not enough to throw him judging off how his eyes consult the air above Lance’s head while he thinks, his answer as calm as can be, “What’s the logistics on that...”

Lance welcomes the important follow-up question with open arms. “Like…” How does he explain-

“Are you a full-body apparition or would I just be-…” 

_ ‘...fucking into nothing’ _ is probably the gist of the rest of that. 

But Lance is happy to help. He’s already put the brain-work into this and will gladly share with the class. “You’d feel me either way. I’d be like a chilly little hug around your dick.” Or like how it feels when Keith goes down on him after eating ice cream, probably.

“Oh.” His reasoning seems to paint the picture Keith needs to understand, his free hand coming up to tuck under his head as he goes back to watching the movie with a relaxed, “Yeah, I’d still fuck you.”

It has Lance grinning. Preening a little. Because that’s  _ exactly _ what he wanted to hear, thank you very much!

Satisfied with the answer he’s been given, he relieves Keith’s sternum of his bony chin (what a sweetheart to not even mention it), and cradles his head back into that nice soft chest where it belongs.

They’ve missed out on a bit of the plot, thanks to their very important discussion, but it hardly matters with how many times they’ve seen it. 

And besides, Lance is still going over the logistics in his head, eyes taking in the images on the screen but too wrapped up in his imagination to process.

Because that’d be tricky to get to work, right? Actually having sex as a ghost?

Lance could hit him with some good ol’ dirty talk and shit like that, but actually manifesting long enough for the whole shebang - foreplay  _ and  _ fucking  _ and  _ cuddling after?

Maybe Keith could get hard on his own. Like, get ready while Lance is all intangible. And  _ then _ Lance could hop his ghostly ass on top of that dick and do his thing.

That’d probably work.

Right?

But what if Lance wants to blow him- 

“...can ghosts cum?”

Lance lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding because thank  _ god _ \- he’s not the only one still thinking about this. 

Also damn, Keith’s moving fast. He hasn’t even made it to spiritual orgasms yet! 

One thing at a time. “Yeah I dunno. Is that like-...an  _ ectoplasm _ situation, or…”

“I don’t-” Keith’s eyes narrow in consideration, “I think that’s something else.”

“Snot, or something.”

“I dunno. But not ghost cum.”

“Hm…”

The way they both trail off to the thought of disembodied jizz is something to note later on. Something to maybe skip over with his therapist and just jot down in his journal.

For now, Keith is writing it off with a pat to his lower back, his tone just as collected as it was at the start. “Guess we won’t know until one of us is a ghost.”

Lance blinks.

‘Until’. 

Like it’s absolutely gonna happen - it’s just a matter of when and who. 

If he were anyone else in the world and not the love of his life, Lance would take that as a threat. But this is just Keith. This is just his beloved boyfriend, saying shit in the most ominous way without meaning a sliver of harm. Responding to Lance’s weirdness with his very own brand.

And if that’s not true love,  _ shit,  _ Lance doesn’t know what is.

“I love you,” he hums, his smile dreamy as he looks up to him - the spooky light of his life.

Keith makes a face. Confused. Like he doesn’t know where it’s coming from. “I...love you too?” Like it’s not even on his radar that this is a weird conversation to not only entertain Lance with, but continue on his own.

He’s a sweetheart.

A chaotic little sweetheart.

And as Lance takes it upon himself to slide up Keith’s body and kiss the living daylights out of him, Master Gracey and Elizabeth dance into eternity, together once again.

* * *


	11. "Ew, your hand is sweaty."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **"Ew, your hand is sweaty."**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** teen  
>  **Word-count:** 1,376 words  
>  **Summary:** Things Keith didn't expect to happen tonight: 1) being back at the Garrison for a fancy reunion, 2) getting swept up in Lance's apparent past hook-up drama, and 3) suddenly becoming Lance's pretend boyfriend to prevent future hook-up drama. And yet.  
>  **Additional Tags:** post canon but everyone's alive and everything is good, fake dating, hand holding, hidden feelings uwu, might continue this one in the next prompt bc it's juicy but don't hold me to it :)
> 
> [more info on what these fics are for :)](https://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/post/628192282477297664/flash-klance-fic-sale-autumn-round-do-you)

* * *

The _second_ he’s no longer obligated, Keith is so fucking sure he’ll never step foot on Garrison grounds ever again. 

And then the war happens.

And things change.

And the years pass - enough for the concept of a Garrison reunion to sound like just a little less of a nightmare. 

Because the rest of the Voltron crew is here - his confidants - and with Shiro telling star-struck cadets battle stories by the champagne table, and Lance here at his side, making snide but accurate comments about the gaudy decorations hanging above them, Keith realizes that maybe this isn’t as bad as he’s been imagining. That maybe enough crazy shit has happened in his life that it’s snuffed out the bad feelings the Garrison used to stir in him.

It’s kind of freeing, if he’s being honest, his grin small but genuine as Lance continues next to him. He’ll definitely take it tonight. Even if evenings where he and Lance stick together almost always end with questionable (but always entertaining) stories.

“...-tacky as hell, honestly. But who’s surprised.” 

It sounds like he’s rounding up the last of his observations. His not so subtle brand of dragging. 

Keith could listen to it all night, though. His transition over the years from being the person who’s getting dragged, to being the person Lance gossips with was long and exhausting. But he definitely prefers it this way. The way they are now. To each other. Together. _Not that they’re-...you know._ Yet. Or ever! 

It’s whatever. 

Anyway…

What was Lance saying?

“...-after you left. Or maybe it was before - I dunno.” He’s peering up at the second floor balcony - how it looks down onto them in the ballroom from all around. Keith doesn’t remember it. But he doesn’t remember a lot of things. And anyway, Lance is suddenly more interested in something else, his eyes fixing on it in a way that Keith can only describe as a deer-in-the-headlights situation. “Oh shit.”

It’s eye-level. Their level. Across the room judging by his stare, but Keith can’t see it past all the people. “What-”

“Shhhhhit...are you fucking serious-”

“Lance, what the hell?” Because he’s cringing. He’s literally cringing, his face scrunching up just as bad as his shoulders. Like if he makes himself smaller he’ll be able to avoid it altogether. _‘It’._ Whatever the fuck _‘it’_ is. “What’s wrong with you?”

The answer he gets is a quick, pointed exhale, Lance’s finger immediately reaching up to scratch at the corner of his eyebrow as he angles his body more toward Keith. “There’s uh-...” his voice has dropped into a murmur, “Okay, so… Like a month before I left for Voltron, I kinda...hooked up with this girl a few times…” 

He’s not embarrassed. Not shameful. But he’s definitely hiding, his body turning more and more in the other direction.

And while Keith can’t say he’s surprised by most of it - Lance’s past coming back to haunt him, his own gut’s questionable response to it, etc. - he still doesn’t understand one big thing. “So you’re... _hiding…”_

“I’m not hiding-”

“You’re hiding.”

Lance throws him a heated look, but he must have a moment of introspection, because he’s instantly posture-correcting and turning back around. Or...at least to face Keith. Not all the way around. But when he’s front and center like this, there’s no escaping his hiss. “You’d hide too if you had a stalker!”

Keith’s blink is unconvinced. “A stalker.”

“Yes, man - _clingy-”_

“Lance-”

“She was fucking obsessed with me! I’m not joking!”

It’s when Keith finally IDs the girl in question. When he picks her out from the crowd. When her gaze locks in on Lance - without a doubt - from across the room.

 _“Fuck me…”_ It falls from Lance’s lips as a whisper. He’s gone from a deer in the headlights to a deer in the cross-hairs in a matter of seconds. 

And…

“I think you’re overreacting.” 

But she’s on the move. She’s honing in, her posture composed and yet somehow Lance is still practically buzzing next to him - is thinking quick - is formulating a plan, that brainwork far too recognizable from their missions together.

“Okay _seriously_ Lance. Why don’t you just-”

Except it cuts out. It stops right on his tongue because suddenly Lance’s hand is slipping into his - their fingers are lacing together - the rest of Keith’s thought is plowed over with Lance’s forced but easy laughter and “God _stop_ it, babe. You look fine,” right as the girl in question reaches them, just in time to hear.

Keith...blanks.

Feels like he’s just accidentally skipped over a chapter in his own book. 

Processes a hundred things at once, his brain straining to catch up over muted voices, but slamming hard at the feeling of Lance’s hand in his.

Because what the fuck?

“-right?” 

It’s Lance. 

He’s looking at him.

She’s looking at him. 

Both of them are looking at him and holy shit. Did Keith’s brain seriously just black out over their introduction?

“Babe?” Lance says it so easily that Keith almost feels stupid. Why the fuck does Keith feel stupid? “You okay?”

It’s-...

Okay. Okay! Lance is pretending. He’s covering his ass. Using Keith as a scapegoat so he doesn’t have to commit anything to this girl - yes - okay, _there’s_ his brain finally connecting shit when he needs it. 

Alright. He can do this.

“Uh yeah,” he finally joins, although it’s probably not as smooth as his pretend other half, “Sorry - just thinking of getting some drinks.”

His catch-up is well-received, Lance’s grin evening out into something more genuine. “Ugh that sounds great right now, thanks baby.”

But Keith’s not done. He can absolutely do better, even with his heart pounding. He can absolutely tug on Lance’s hand, pulling him away with a casual: “Come with me, though. I gotta tell you something,” and a nod to the girl that he _still_ doesn’t know the name of. 

And it-...

It... _works._

Somehow. Magically.

They leave her behind with barely a minute’s interaction, weaving through the people on their path toward the champagne table. 

Keith can probably let Lance walk by himself now, but… You know. Just in case.

And Lance is too busy talking anyway, back to his usual way of speaking, his tone grown so comfortable in Keith’s brain. “Cool so...that was me panicking.”

It’s funny. Kind of. In a detrimental, feelings-stirring kind of way. “Yeah. Thanks for the heads up.”

There are enough of their acquaintances here to make a fuss if they wanted to. To point out their sudden, out of the blue affection with a ton of unwanted questions. But the champagne seems to be flowing steadily tonight, because the two of them make it all the way to the table without a single issue.

Well, except for Lance. He just _has_ to sneak something in. “Ew, your hand is sweaty.”

Keith resists rolling his eyes. So typical. “Then let go of it.”

“No.” A pause. “I mean, she might be looking still.” Backpedaling. Ass-covering.

Keith won’t press that either. For both their sakes, actually. 

Nope, he’ll simply take it upon himself to do it - to finally pull his hand away from Lance’s. But it’s only so he can snatch a couple much-needed champagne flutes from the table, the bubbles dancing as he hands one over to Lance. “Here ya go, _babe.”_

It feels weird on his tongue. Like it’s something he should feel guilty about.

But nothing tops Lance’s little shimmy of energy when he hears it - his hard-to-place “Oo…” as he accepts the drink, too in his head to make eye contact. 

It’s-...a reaction. Of some kind.

Keith wants to know _exactly_ what kind. Wants to know if the heat rising to Lance’s face is from the huge gulp of champagne he just downed, or from being on the receiving end of the unexpected petname for the first time.

But he won’t press. 

Not right now.

They’ve got a long night ahead of them, this first drink one of probably too many.

And if their hands happen to drift back together, it’s only for the show of it. To keep up appearances.

You know, just in case that girl is watching.

* * *


	12. “You’re competitive and so am I, and it’s going to lead to a fight.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **“You’re competitive and so am I, and it’s going to lead to a fight.”**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** teen  
>  **Word-count:** 2,383 words  
>  **Summary:** They're three glasses of champagne in and it's getting easier and easier for Keith to forget that they're pretending. Part Two of the fake dating at the garrison reunion AU.  
>  **Additional Tags:** post canon but everyone's alive and everything is good, fake dating, hand holding, hidden feelings uwu, first kiss
> 
> [more info on what these fics are for :)](https://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/post/628192282477297664/flash-klance-fic-sale-autumn-round-do-you)
> 
> please read [Part One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23396242/chapters/64297351)!

They’re three champagne glasses in and it’s getting easier and easier to hold Lance’s hand.

Easier and easier to process what his gut was doing when he was being called all those petnames.

Easier and easier to forget - for a second - that they’re pretending.

But Keith doesn’t dwell on it. Holding Lance’s hand is comforting, and teasing each other with an occasional ‘babe’ is fun, but… They’ve got a job to do. A scene to set. A girl to keep convinced.

“So how long have you been seeing him?”

Keith’s startle is a hair away from showing but he covers it, the voice that pops up beside him as unexpected as it is unwanted as he waits by the open balcony doors. 

Damn, speak of the devil.

“Uhh…” He’s not sure how to answer her question. Doesn’t actually wanna engage with this girl  _ at all,  _ if possible, but-... Alright, what’s a reasonable amount of time for he and Lance to be dating? “Few months, I guess.”

The girl hums a laugh beside him, but Keith’s no stranger to the tone lurking beneath it. It’s a pity laugh. No doubt about it. 

“You know,” she says, blue eyes piercing behind thick eyelashes, “I dunno if he told you, but the two of us were actually together before he left.”

It’s like she’s hunting. Laying down territory.

She 100% waited for Lance to fuck off to the bathroom so she could come over here and inflate a few hookups into a fullblown relationship, didn’t she? So she could stake claim on what isn’t hers - what isn’t even  _ Keith’s,  _ technically. But she doesn’t know that. 

Keith gives her a little glance, but that’s it. That’s all he needs. She’s pretty, but what’s prettiness worth if you’re a psychopath. “Cool.” He can stop there. He can disengage. He should, but- “He’s never mentioned you at all, actually.”

The way it twists that territorial smile of hers into something just a little bit sour is entertaining and it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be, right? That shouldn’t have felt good?

Fuck it, it felt good.

And this girl’s got a deadly bounceback time anyway. “He probably didn’t wanna make you jealous.”

It’s uncanny - how perfectly it’s timed with Keith’s attention locking onto where Lance has finally re-entered the room - more specifically, where Lance is very much realizing, with comically large eyes, the circumstance that Keith is currently in. 

It’s all exactly in sync, their gazes meeting across the room as the girl takes a sip from her champagne glass and leans in, voice lowered. “You know, he told me that every time we fucked, it felt like heaven.”

Keith blinks. Fights back his amused grin. Settles on a solid: “Fun,” nothing more, nothing less. 

Because as exhausting as this girl is, he can’t laugh in her face. Even if she’s throwing around weirdly worded claims that nobody asked to hear - especially not him. 

Even if, the more he thinks about it, his own pity smile starts to turn just the slightest bit sour too, Lance’s morbid curiosity as clear as day on the other side of the room.

And yeah. You know what? Keith has entertained this long enough.

“Alright well…” The effort to lay down a polite transition is just  _ not _ something he’s willing to do at this point. It’s much easier to just walk away - to free himself from the conversation he didn’t want to be a part of in the first place. 

But he can feel her stare burning into the back of his head as he leaves, all the way from the balcony doors to where Lance is waiting for him, his morbid curiosity finally getting the best of him.

“I know I shouldn’t ask - I know - I  _ know it-” _

Keith shuts him up with a firm pat to his shoulder. Not exactly lovey-dovey, but it does the job. And...maybe he has a little bit of apologizing to do. “So you weren’t kidding about the whole ‘obsession’ thing.”

The  _ holy-shit-I-told-you-so _ in Lance’s eyes is out of this world,  _ “No,  _ man. I wasn’t kidding,” but he doesn’t shrug off the touch. Even as his attention trails back out to the crowd, what he says next somehow more ominous than when he spotted her at the beginning of all this. “She’s not buying it.”

Because they’re being watched.

Like prey in a clearing.

Completely vulnerable as the wolf sizes them up from within the treeline.

Keith lets his gaze slip away to land on something else, years of training to feign indifference paying off. “You don’t think so?” 

But his heart is starting to pound in his chest. 

And he honestly can’t tell if it’s from being stalked, or from the wild rush of confidence that Lance’s  _ ‘mm-mm’  _ stokes in him, the hand he has resting on his shoulder smoothly slipping downward to wrap his arm around Lance’s back.

It’s close.

Intimate.

Warming Keith in places he’s gotta ignore for now so he can ask it, lowly. “How ‘bout now…”

He can hear Lance’s huffy laugh under his breath. Can feel his body tensing and posture-correcting under his hold. “Wh-... I mean,  _ yeah.”  _ Can see just the faintest pink that’s starting to blush the tips of his ears as he answers. “But you’re about to start some shit. You do know that, right?”

Keith keeps himself steady. “Meaning…”

_ “Meaning…”  _ Lance huffs again, but the feeling of his arm coming up to complete the hold and wrap around Keith’s back? It stirs way too much for him to care. “You’re competitive.”

“Yeah-”

“And so am I-”

_ “Okay-” _

Lance turns to him, their hold zeroing things into a closeness that should be chump change for a real couple, but has Keith’s chest fluttering almost uncomfortably. “It’s gonna lead to a fight.”

It’s a warning. 

A million-watt sign flashing above their heads that he should head.

But Keith’s finding it hard to listen to reason when Lance is all up in his face like this - pretend or not. And… 

Keith grins, teasing without meaning to be. “Couples fight all the time, though. Right?”

It has Lance’s eyebrow arching in that unconvinced but undoubtedly intrigued way, his eyes taking in Keith’s close grin before lifting back up.

And look. Keith’s self-aware enough to know when he’s purposely missing the point.

When he’s doing too much.

Because Lance is right, after all. The two of them can’t do  _ anything  _ without trying to one-up each other. Everything turns into a competition - even the stupidest task. So why would pretending to date each other be any different?

_ Because they have a common goal,  _ Keith tells himself.  _ Because they’re working together. _

_ Because they’re one hundred percent pretending but Keith’s been pretending in his head for  _ far longer  _ than just tonight. _

So when Lance’s hold around him disappears, only a split second away before he’s grabbing his hand and pulling him through the crowd, of course Keith goes willingly. 

Of fucking course.

Even if the last thing he wants to do is join the couples ballroom dancing in the center.

Lance works quick - “Let’s see those box-step skills,  _ babe.”  _ \- gets his arm back around him and holds his hand out to complete the move.

But Keith falls into position without missing a beat, “Joke’s on  _ you,  _ babe,” hand slotting into Lance’s and arm mirroring his hold, “I had to learn for that undercover thing with Allura.”

He earns a little hum for it. A little half-smile. A bigger one, as they start to step in time to the strings. 

Keith’s form is clearly a pleasant surprise to him - which Keith can’t even get mad at, because if he were Lance, he’d assume he wouldn’t know his way around a ballroom too.

But the orchestra playing off to the side is going easy on them - something nice and slow. Plenty of time to remember which foot to lead with. To focus. To try to shake those blue eyes as they appear at the edge of the crowd. 

“So when do your hands stop being sweaty.”

Aaand, there it is. 

Keith fixes him with a look as they dance on, but nothing more. Not when they’re under such a scrutinizing watch again. “You’re the one who keeps holding my hand.”

Lance’s grin is amused. “That’s acting, sweetheart.”

It’s enough to coax one from Keith as well. “Mm.” 

Because it’s too easy. To tease. To forget himself. To get lost in it, the repeated voice of  _ ‘remember, this is just pretend’  _ slipping under the warm buzz in his chest and his face and in his fingertips.

“She’s watching...”

Keith swallows. Forces himself not to look. “I know...”

Focuses on Lance. 

On his eyes, flicking sweetly between Keith’s.

On his mouth, his lips dragging time out into something honey-thick as he asks it under his breath… “Are we doing it...?” ...kept just between the two of them… “...do we look like we’re in love…?”

The strings pull and lift their final note, the tone echoing off into the ballroom’s ceiling before the crowd answers with gentle applause. 

But Keith can’t hear it. It’s muffled over. Hazed out under the weight of expectation. The weight of Lance’s body falling still in his hold. Of couples around them kissing and making their way off the dance floor. The weight of his eyes dancing between Keith’s and who’s waiting at the edge of the crowd. 

The  _ expectation. _

Keith stalls… Pulse suspends… Answers Lance’s silence with his own and his struggle with his own and his lips with his own because Lance is moving in. Keith is moving in. Heavy under the weight of expectation and the weight of unconvinced eyes and Keith is-...

Keith is…

The hand on his neck is unsteady…

Lips pressed to his are unsteady… Hesitant… Growing more and more unsure with every thick beat of Keith’s pulse and  _ pretend. Pretend. It’s pretend, it’s- _

The chatter of the ballroom washes back over Keith like a bucket of ice water as Lance pulls away - completely - hands fisted and too much room between them and _ - _

“Lance.” 

Keith is almost positive he says it but he can’t be sure. Not when he’s being drowned by it all. The voices clashing off the ceiling and the sour punch to the gut from Lance’s eyes landing everywhere but on him, his attempt at composure completely blown by his half-gesture in the other direction and distracted, “Um-...” before stepping back and away and-

_ “Lance.”  _

He shouldn’t follow him. He should give him a second, but Keith can’t stop moving because  _ fuck. _

Fuck!

He crossed the line and it’s just like Lance said, isn’t it. This is the fight,  _ isn’t it. _

The huge doors to the outside are still open. They're absolutely no obstacle for Lance as he pushes out onto the balcony, either unaware that he’s being followed or choosing to ignore it but now he’s cornered.

Now he’s got nowhere to run.

Now he’s right here, his back to him and hands literally grabbing at his own hair like a man who’s trying to cope as Keith approaches him, “Lance,” because he’s gotta fix this, “Lance, you were right - that-... I shouldnt’ve done that.” Even as Lance turns to him - steps towards him - a man on a mission and his hands falling from his head to steady at his sides and- “I’m s-”

The hands that land on him don’t punch him - don’t push him away - they cradle, one on each cheek and already enough to shut Keith up and then  _ he fucking kisses him.  _ He kisses him!

He…

The heat that floods over Keith is full-body. Has him suspended. Pulls his stance out of defense mode and slowly into returning the embrace that wraps around him because he’s-...

Lance is…

The sounds of the reunion don’t rush back this time. 

Don’t ruin the moment.

Can’t even begin to take away from how Keith’s heart flutters around in his rib cage because  _ Lance is kissing him…  _ They’re kissing… Not for anyone else, but just the two of them.

And when Lance pulls back, it’s only enough to see his face. To take in whatever face Keith’s making too, hesitant but only in a way that’s grossly vulnerable. 

And Keith… Catching his breath a little… “So we’re  _ not  _ fighting…”

He already knows he’s grinning because Lance’s gaze drops to it before returning, the moon bright enough to catch his blush. “No I just-... I may have panicked a little.” Tonight’s overarching theme, it seems. “And I- uh…”

Keith feels like his chest is going to explode, but he keeps his cool. “What…”

As much as he can, that is, with how sweetly Lance avoids eye-contact to mumble it. “...just...didn’t want our first kiss to be like that...”

Because of what it means.

The subtext.

The fact that all this time, Keith hasn’t been the only one out here imagining their first kiss like a pining dumbass.

There are so many places to take this. So many ways to tease Lance within an inch of his life. But Keith’s only interested in one thing, now. And it’s a long time coming.

Lance hums contently as their lips meet again, more punch packed behind it this time. And the way they move together may be a little awkward - Keith’s steps less than ballroom-worthy as Lance backs him up against the balcony’s railing - but that just means they’re due for some practice. Something Keith is more than willing to commit to.

“Is it bad that I don’t wanna go back in…?”

Lance must be on the exact same page, because Keith can feel his grin before he answers with a little nip to his bottom lip.

That’s an agreement. 

No words necessary.

Inside, the reunion carries on, most likely no one noticing their absence except for one girl. 

But Keith doesn’t even remember her face now. Fuck, he doesn’t even remember his own  _ name,  _ to be honest. 

No, he’s perfectly content to stay right here, making out with Lance on the balcony without a care in the world. 

He even lets it slide when Lance hums a laugh against his lips,  _ “Hm-hmm,” _ not even waiting for a response to share his finally connecting thoughts. “Your hands were sweaty ‘cause you like me.”

Because yeah.

He’s 100% right.

* * *


	13. ”I may be stupid, but I’m not an idiot.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **”I may be stupid, but I’m not an idiot.”**
> 
> **Pairing:** klance  
>  **Rating:** T  
>  **Word-count:** 1,255 words  
>  **Summary:** Lance’s roommate Keith is a horror-film slut. He lives for putting Lance through the grossest scenes. So how come when it’s Lance’s turn to choose the movie and he brings out Paranormal Activity, Keith’s suddenly sus as hell?  
>  **Additional Tags:** oh my god they were roommates, keith’s no good with jump-scares there you go theres the answer, hand-holding, cuddling, basically lance comforts him while they watch and it’s cute yeehaw
> 
> [more info on what these fics are for :)](https://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/post/613848736745078784/flash-klance-fic-sale-do-you-feel-like-you)

So here’s the thing. 

Keith's a horror flick slut.

He loves them! And being Keith’s roommate (and therefore within easy access at all times) means Lance has been made to sit through enough blood and guts to last about a thousand lifetimes. All while Keith’s psychopathic little self watches without batting an eye. It’s like second nature for him.

So why the hell is he acting so sus tonight?

From the corner of his eye, Lance watches Keith pull himself from the couch and into the kitchen for what’s gotta be at least his third time this past half hour. He can technically still see the TV in there - can catch the camera panning as Paranormal Activity sets up what it does best - but his attention is in the sink instead. 

“Want me to pause it?”

Lance isn’t sure why he asks it. He already knows he’s gonna get a-

“It’s fine.”

Mm.

The scene plays on...moving camera...night vision...door opening with a disembodied creak - all of it completely missed by his roommate.

Lance sneaks a peek, impatient.

What the hell is he even  _ doing  _ over there? It’s like it doesn’t matter to him that he missed the scare. In this, the spookiest of seasons!

Alright, Lance is gonna give it another try. Super casual. “Hey man, you good?”

Nice. Doesn’t even sound like he suspects anything.

Keith glances up at him from the sink, the water tap squeaking off. “Yeah?”

“You sure?”

It’s just a step too far, Keith’s confused brow furrow turning cranky and voice snapping with his trademark bite.  _ “Yes,  _ Lance. Jesus.” 

And damn! Okay! Forgive him for checking in after noticing his fifty-fifth trip to go get water. If he wants to float away, be his guest - damn!

Lance kicks the blanket over his feet to cover them instead of using the energy to argue. He’s gonna let it go. For now. Keith is just distracted, he guesses. In his head like he gets sometimes. It’s clear in the way he approaches the couch again, his silence way heavier than it should be.

Or maybe it’s just the atmosphere Paranormal Activity tends to set when it’s playing. Yeah. Maybe that’s it.

_ Or maybe Keith’s just sus as hell. _

Lance’s glance over to where his roommate’s phone screen lights up in his hand is less than amused, but also less than surprised.

Because really?

Twitter?

“Bored?”

It takes a good two seconds for Keith to mumble his response. A dismissal, but just barely.

And look, Lance isn’t gonna take  _ offense  _ to his movie of choice being ignored. It’s not like he’s been waiting to impress this ghostly horror-lover with a spook of his own, or anything. Definitely not that. Just…

On the TV in front of them, the door slams shut - clipped and loud and raising Keith’s shoulders into something defensive and-

Whoa! “Oh my god, did that get you?”

Keith’s immediately loosening. “No.” Acting like it never happened.

But it was clear as day! “Dude, you never jump.”

“I didn’t.”

“You so fucking did - you-”

...oh...

...hang on...

Lance blinks, all the puzzle pieces that have been rattling around in his head slowly starting to fit together. 

The restlessness.

All the avoiding.

Keith isn’t being an asshole… He’s…

Lance’s smile is slow and creeping and in near-disbelief as he asks it. “Dude... ...are you scared?”

It should get him an eyeroll. Or a shove. Or something else but  _ definitely  _ something more than an irritated little:  _ “No…” _

Holy shit. He’s freaked out. 

It totally makes sense, too. This shit isn’t gory like the movies Keith makes him sit through. There’s no severed limbs or eyeballs or whatever. 

Paranormal Activity is just Jump-Scare City.

And Keith can’t handle the buildup.

Wow. Wow wow, okay there are so many ways Lance can go with this - a lot of them  _ very  _ heavy on the teasing. But...

“Keith…” Kindness. Benevolence. Even as Keith sticks feebly to his guns. “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

He can see it in his face, now that he knows what he’s looking for - the greens of night-vision footage painting over the anxiety that sets his brow just the slightest bit uneasy. The grip he has around his phone. Like a life-line. A distraction life-line.

Actually, it’s kinda...

_...well... _

“You can hold my hand if you want.”

The look Keith shoots him is far from amused. “You’re hilarious.”

But last time Lance checked, he doesn’t have all that much room to try and tough-guy his way through this. Plus, “I’m serious, you dick. You’re never nice enough to offer it to  _ me _ for  _ your  _ gross-ass movies, but I’m better than that.”

Perhaps a step too far, but true all the same. Nine times of out ten, Lance would prefer a hand to hold while being subjected to limbs getting sawed off. And this may be a different type of horror, but some reassurance here can’t hurt either, now could it?

Keith rolls his eyes - ahh, there it is - but miracles upon miracles, he slips his hand into Lance’s waiting one, avoiding any and all eye-contact while he does so.

It’s sweaty. Which is beyond cute, if not a little gross. 

But Lance grins in his victory anyway, lacing their fingers together and perching their hands comfortably in Keith’s lap to hang onto if need be - making sure they’re at optimal hand-holding capacity to fight away the impending scaries.

And he’s gotta admit, even though he’s seen this movie a handful of times - even though he mostly knows what’s coming - it’s just downright nice to have a little comfort goin’ on. Especially with Keith, which he never thought in a thousand years he would get to-

The sudden shatter of glass on screen has Keith’s grip going goddamn  _ vice-like,  _ something in Lance’s brain flashing them forward into a hospital labor room for a split second.

But there’s no screaming. No threats about getting babies out of anywhere (yeesh, that’s really gonna be something, huh…). It’s just Keith, immediately correcting himself and loosening his grip around Lance’s hand as if it never happened.

A truly pathetic cover-up, if they’re being honest here, but again (!) Lance won’t say anything! He’s better than that! He can be the support system he never had in these situations, nothing more than a silent, teasing grin on his face as he uses his hold to lift and wrap his arm around Keith’s shoulder to bring him in.

Keith’s as comically stiff and grumbly as expected, Lance’s “Chill, man,” coming across more knowing than anything as they slot together. 

But it only takes a few minutes for him to relax. To just fucking  _ unclench _ for once in his life, coaxed by the warmth of Lance’s hold and the security of the blanket being spread over his lap too. 

That doesn’t mean he abandons his tough-guy front entirely, of course. “This is stupid…”

But Lance simply hums a quiet, “Mhm…” willing to dismiss whether the comment was directed toward the movie or the apparently devastating act of letting yourself be vulnerable. 

Because they’re gonna be just fine. 

They’re gonna fight their way through, all the way to the end of this movie, Keith leaning closer and closer into Lance’s safety-bubble as the jump-scares amp up to the final reveal.

And if Lance’s heart is skipping a few beats - if it’s pounding just a  _ scootch  _ faster than normal - he’s gonna chalk it up to the inherent suspense of the movie.

Yeah.

Definitely nothing more than that.


End file.
